“Rock It Don’t Stop It…” or, the UnInvisible Woman


“They” (I know.  Who are “they?”  When I find out I will reveal their identities in a blog post) say that women of a certain age (“cough,”cough” women over 40) become “invisible” to men specifically and to everyone in general (think mass media, designers, etc.).  Kind of like Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man (note to self:  re-read Invisible Man), but not that heavy.  Thank God.

We walk into trendy shops and cafes and we make sure that our gorgeous, charming, oh-so noticeable children are leading the way, less we disappear.  We half  jokingly “beg” our child (ahem. . . Precious Child I) to buy an extra ticket for the upcoming Common concert (of course he didn’t—good for PCII) in an effort to stay relevant.  We consider, just consider getting that small, delicate butterfly tattoo on our right inner ankle and then we remember that we have preached repeatedly to our children that our body is a temple and we are not to disfigure it (piercing of the ears for Precious Child II. Ok.  piercing of the belly for Precious Children.  Not ok.).  And we use all of the energy left in us to not succumb to those seemingly comfortable “mom jeans.”  

Now if you do indeed wish to age gracefully and in comfort and be left alone to read (a hardcopy of course) the Sunday paper on Sunday morning, do not wish to tweet, use Facebook, or learn how to cut and paste on your laptop then this post isn’t for you.  And that’s ok.  We will meet up in another post real soon.  However, for those of us who refuse to socially disappear I encourage you to continue reading. 

Hey.  I refuse to disappear.  I put in some good, hard work to reach this point in my life healthy, comfortable, and relatively sane.  I did not party too hard in my twenties, I got my degrees, I married well,  I am raising my children, I did not indulge and or engage in the “Studio 54” lifestyle in any way, shape or form(those of you who came of age in the 80’s know of what I speak.  For all others, ask Mr. Google!), I was not a major sun worshipper (save for my 2 week annual sojourns to Trinidad and Tobago’s carnival—I was in my teen and young adult years and SPF was not in my lexicon) and at a young age, I figured out that Ronald McDonald was not my friend.  So in summary:  The skin, weight, body, teeth, hair ( though I am not loving the gray), blood pressure, cholesterol and glucose levels; mental clarity are all great.  Soooooooo . . .

If you are like me and I suspect that many of you are, then stand up and refuse to be invisible too.  On a Friday evening, go out with your spouse (or spousal equivalent)—perhaps a movie and dinner.  On Saturday morning instead of running carpools and attending a child’s sporting event, reserve a Saturday a month for getting that mani-pedi, facial or full spa day experience.  Saturday evening—take in a concert, go to the theater (my favorite, favorite, favorite place to be when I am outside of my home— the theatre (guffaw!)—I love being entertained).  Sunday morning—go for a run—visit your city’s art museum.  We only have one art museum in my adopted city.  We have been so often that Precious Child I & II know the names of the donors of the permanent collections.  Oh how I miss NYC! 

 In essence, every thing that you are currently doing that is aiding in your disappearance, assisting you in becoming invisible (running errands every Saturday morning in those comfortable “carpool clothes”, coming straight home to park in front of the television or computer screen on a Friday evening, etc. )  STOP IT!  Buy your own Common ticket; pick up a ticket for your spouse.  Don’t commit to a permanent tattoo when you want to be “fierce and funky” on a Saturday night, get a high quality temporary tattoo. 

What am I doing to stay visible?  When Mr. Recovering Attorney invite me out for a night on the town (translation:  fine dining.  My husband is a foodie.  Me, not so much.  I’d rather be entertained.  But hey, it’s a free meal and children are generally not involved), I now say yes early and often!  When Mr. Recovering Attorney suggest that I join him in NYC (business related), I am there!  Before (like  6 months ago—this is all new to me–I am in “recovery”), I would find excuses not to meet him (Precious Child I & II usually the excuse).  No longer Dear Readers.  In fact, just this past weekend, Mr. Recovering Attorney called home and suggested that we fly down to the Bahamas for the weekend (No, he was serious!  Really).  I was so there (mentally I was).  Precious Child I is off at college, Precious Child II is old enough to stay with her grandparents without needing  much preparation.  But I had to say no.  Why?  We had to attend the annual arts gala auction last weekend—I am on the board and days earlier I sent out an e-mail imploring all board members to attend.   Mr. Recovering Attorney loathes this annual ritual and was really trying hard to get out of attending (he figured out that a trip to the Bahamas was easier on his wallet then my bidding at the auction—I am so competitive).  He was really testing my new live- in- the- moment attitude.  I failed miserably.  He did promise a make-up test.  Ha!

I am tall, I “own” the space  between my two front teeth, as of September, I am “rocking” and loving my new kinky, curly, coils and I have parked my SUV (mom car) in favor of my shiny, black European convertible.  I am hard to miss I tell you!  I will not be socially invisible and I will not be ignored.  I think “they” call it a mid-life crisis.  But heck, I own that too!

How are you going to not disappear this weekend?

COPYRIGHT 2011, The Recovering Attorney.  All Rights Reserved.

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