Old Fashion

I’m living my life backwards.  I moved to Los Angeles at 50 and realized fairly quickly that I’m 30 years too late getting here.  I really don’t belong in the land of sun and abundance of exposed flesh. I should have been here hanging on the beach, when I had long, swingy hair, a bikini ready body and smooth, toned skin.  That was sooo 1982. Unfortunately and unavoidably, I now have an abundance of flesh that absolutely should not be exposed.  Really, anybody my age should be keeping it all covered.  I’ve thought on occasion that wearing a burka would be a good fashion choice for me, if it didn’t come with the whole loss of civil rights thing and the religious connotations.  It would be so easy to throw it on and walk out the door with confidence.  I wouldn’t have to think about my saggy elbows, the weird stuff above my knees, the hard evidence that laying out on foil with baby oil, the summer of my senior year in high school, would have long term consequences to my neck.

Sigh. A woman can dream...

The problem with living here is a culture of trying really hard to look 21, whether you’re 14 or 50 plus; it’s just not attractive on either end of the spectrum.   I’ve seen my share of teenage wanna-be Playboy Playmates, women my age in clothing that looks like they’re in a Mexican telenovela, and older men in rapper style shorts with a calf tattoo of Donald Duck.

This is apparently a thing

There are way too many opportunities to expose body parts here in the Southland, whether they deserve exposure or not.  Too much TMI.  You merely have to point out what has happened to that Smiley face tattoo on the shoulder of the woman in front of you to your teenager.  Life lesson about tattoos on sagging skin: check.

I’m talking to you Too Tight Yoga Pants. Just say no Tiny Tank Top.  I’m tired of looking at you Muffin Top Thong.  I like to think that I’m a decent example of how to dress in an age appropriate manner.I don’t want to look at it and I want to spare others the view too. Neck to toe coverage, usually in black.  Sometimes I’ll go with navy blue, if I’m feeling perky.  Loose, unbelted, flowy…perfect.   I’m just going to go with my sparkling personality, and wear good jewelry, as it’s all I’ve got left.  That, and a hope that someday I’ll be back in the northwest, with a legitimate reason to cover up (because it’s cold) in head-to-toe polar fleece….ahhh, the height of  fashion.

I would say something to her mother, but she's probably wearing the same thing

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