Women over 40 who act like women under 40, do not represent women over 40.
Case in point. The douche to the left. She's one of those Real Housewives. Although she is neither real nor a wife. She is also not a singer but she recorded this song called Tardy for the Party and the lyrics inspired this post.
(The song is a couple years old, like her prescription for bifocals she refuses to fill, but since I don't really follow the lives of the wives, I just heard the lyrics for the first time.)
So the song starts out with her, a grown woman and mother, talking about (or, "singing" about) going to a club and staying out all night:
"Party all night and we won't go to sleep.
We own the club. We own the life and I am not leaving 'till I see daylight."
Say what now? Why the hell would you "party all night"? Don't you have to get up and take your kids to school or dance class or just make breakfast? And if you don't leave the club until you see daylight at your age, the morning sun will expose you for the botox injecting, wig wearing fraud that you are. Unless doing the Cabbage Patch all night didn't give you away already.
The next part:
"I'll be feelin' good by nine. After my third glass of wine.
On the dance floor lookin' fine. All the boys tryin' to get in line."
So by nine she'll have had her third glass of wine? At her age that doesn't make her feel "good" as much as "tired" so she's a big, hairy liar. She's also setting herself up for a little something called estrogen dominance. You see, alcohol increases estrogen production in women of a certain age, and high levels of estrogen increases the risk of cancer. Three drinks PER WEEK is the recommended limit. So consider yourself told, Party Granny.
And when she says "boys" she actually means boys because the club guys could be her sons, or her students, or her daughters' boyfriends. Eew. It's just so many kinds of wrong I can barely go on...but I will.
Then comes the super disgusting part of the song that made me cover my mouth so I wouldn't hurl.
"Headed back to VIP. So tight that I can't breathe.
I look good in this heat. Sweat drippin' all over me."
Blerhlfrgaglabul!!!!! That's how I spell the barfing noise. Sweat dripping all over a twenty-something or even some thirty-somethings can prove to be an aphrodisiac. Sweat on this chic (Blerhlfrgaglabul!) Well, that's just nasty. Besides, she not sweating because she's "kickin' it on the dance floor" she sweating because she's exhausted and drank too much Red Bull to chase down her St. John's Wort because she's depressed that she's not the age she is acting.
Stop the madness!
Here's the thing, pretendy pants. I'll bet you are smart and interesting and even talented on the inside. Why do you have to wear this macabre caricature on the outside? So your dad ignored you. So your high school boyfriend cheated on you. So your mom was a narcissist. So you were ugly, fat, short, stinky, wore glasses, headgear, had a wooden leg in grade school. We all did!
Now is your chance to fix things. Not try and re-live them. So cut your hair, take an art class, go to bed at a reasonable hour and raise your kids in a way that won't perpetuate this sad state of affairs.
You are welcome to join us, the other 40-somethings on this side anytime. It's a far-less-humiliating side. And it is the real "real" side. Over here, we’re supportive, not snarky. (Okay I was definitely not nice above but that was tough love. A splash of cold water, if you will.) We express ourselves honestly over here, which may be an adjustment at first but you’ll learn to appreciate it.
But wait, there's more!
We’ll share recipes and go to yoga with you. We’ll never grab your man’s ass or break plans for a better offer and we will always tell you quietly if you have spinach in your teeth. (You don't have to eat spinach on this side but it is encouraged.)
Sooooooo? You warming up to the idea?
Good! You can find us just about anywhere. We’re the calm ladies in the J Crew jeans with mid length layers (or sometimes a daring, blunt bang.) We’re often out having coffee with friends, shopping at natural food co-ops or volunteering at the school library.
Aw. Don’t cry. It's not that bad. In fact, we've heard we’re a blast. Just ask our kids. They’re around us all the time, not in rehab or jail.
Oh, now look what you’ve done. Those crocodile tears smeared your Mac mascara all over your mineral makeup and made you look like Tammy Faye. Aha! You know who that is. Further proof that you are our age and need rehabilitation.
Take your time. No pressure. We're here for you. Just send us a text when you’re ready…but not while you’re driving, okay?
Love,
Your well-adjusted sisters
Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc.
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