Getting Old

 

Getting old

Is the slow loss of shame,

Especially if you’ve spent your life

Being watched

And judged

And found wanting. 

I wasn’t fat

But I wasn’t skinny. 

So I thought I was huge. 

My entire life was organized around my big ass. 

I dressed in loose clothes,

I didn’t go swimming. 

Young men on the street 

Commented 

On the size of my ass

All the time. 

It never occurred to me 

That they liked my ass. 

It never occurred to me 

That my ass was none of their business. 

When I quit smoking 

I gained more weight. 

I’m told I was voluptuous,

I knew I was fat. 

When I hit my forties

The comments stopped. 

I could be on fire

And no man would see me. 

I missed them

For a while. 

It meant I was too old

To be sexy. 

But in my fifties

I slowly realized I was free!

If no one was looking

Then I could just be me. 

And me said,

No more dieting. 

And then me said,

If you don’t like it don’t look. 

And then me said,

No more hiding. 

And then me said,

No more apologies.  

My hair went gray

And I figured out that

If I used the right tone of voice,

Young men would do my bidding. 

I’m not a grandma. 

I’m not a mommy or an auntie. 

I don’t need them to love me. 

I need them to give me a seat on the subway.  

Except for the poverty

And the wrinkles 

And the impending decrepitude,

Getting old is lovely.