I’m losing my cool. In fact, I’m not sure I ever really had it. To be honest, I wasn’t giving much brain time to this whole thing until I tuned into my favorite talk radio station today. It seems that in the war of the sexes, mature guys win hands down over older women in the cool department.
As if there isn’t enough fodder to set the political pundits’ tongues on fire, now they’ve pointed out that Hillary just doesn’t have the same cool factor as her husband, the Former President Clinton.
Remember that great moment when Bill donned his Blues Brothers glasses and started tooting his own horn? The voters loved it. By comparison, Hillary looked, well, less than cool while performing the Macarena, and she can’t carry a tune in a gunny sack, but that has little to do with the truth of the matter. It’s her age – her middle age, to be exact that makes her uncool.
Too bad it wasn’t a call in program; there are a few things I wanted to point out, like the fact that the commentators were men. In Man World, men become distinguished with age. Women just get old. I think men have some kind of magic mirrors that reflect only virile youth. How else can you explain the aging male, with substantial paunch, man boobs and sagging skin, that stands in front of his looking glass every morning, strikes the Atlas pose and announces, “I’ve still got it.”?
Billy-boy’s famous saxophone solo was sixteen years ago – that’s almost two decades. Back then, if Hillary had donned a pair of tight blue jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket, and rode in on the back of a Harley with her long blond hair blowing out behind her, I think hot might have been the buzz word. As a matter of fact, I think she could still pull that off today if she lost the matronly suits and spent a little time with Stacy and Clinton of What Not To Wear.
There seems to be a little confusion over hot and cool. Does it all come down to gender? It is Joe Cool after all, not Jane. John Travolta’s breakout character,Vinnie Barbarino was the epitome of cool in Welcome Back Kotter. And sitting in the desk behind him? Hotsy Totsy, not Cool Lulu. Then came Grease, and John T spelled cool with a capital C. When sweet and innocent Sandy decided to go bad for her man, she transformed into a sizzling hot babe.
Okay, so maybe a middle aged woman can’t lose her cool factor because she never had it to begin with. But unless you count the hot flashes, my temperature on the hotty thermometer is definitely going down as my years increase. Let’s face it, I’m barely lukewarm these days.
“That’s not true,” my 26 year old daughter assures me. “A lot of guys your age think you’re hot.”
Your age. Two words that rake on my confidence like nails on a chalkboard.
As for Hillary, she’s in a catch-22. The same pundits who pigeon hole her as uncool, (translate - past her prime), find fault with her opponent for being too young and inexperienced. I guess they’d think it was cool if Senator Obama played a mean blues riff on a harmonica, then suddenly he’d be a seasoned gentleman - one cool cat.
So what is this hot factor that has me losing my cool? Why do I spend money on creams, lotions and potions that promise to make me look ten years younger? Why do I squeeze myself into Spanks, a kinder gentler girdle than my mother wore, to look fifteen pounds thinner? Why do I even care if I can make men half my age take a second look?
Does a woman have to be hot to be cool and can a middle aged woman like me pull it off? Should I even bother? I mean, unless I’m running for President of the United States, what’s it going to get me?
There will always be women younger and prettier than me and maybe my days of dancing the Macarana, or at least looking good while I’m doing it are over.
Not to worry, there’s still the Tango.
For a FREE download of Manifesting your Mid-Life, 10-Steps to A Change for the Better, visit http://www.madgoddess.com/ and join the Ma'd Goddess mailing list.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
GET A (mid) LIFE
Right this minute you are being toted along your life's journey in a caravan of transformation. Your time has come. Let go of your neophyte twenties, release your toilsome thirties, wave good-bye to your frantic forties and embrace the metamorphosis of your middle years, your life center. You are not just experiencing mid-life; you are becoming a Middle Aged Goddess. More precisely, you are becoming a MA'd Goddess™, in every mirthful and powerful incarnation the title implies.
Regrettably, too many MA’d Goddess™ women, have not broken their chrysalis and spread their wings. Or perhaps, having taken a tentative flight or two, they fear straying out into their new world; capricious spirits haphazardly flitting about in circles, searching for true self. Should you be one of these wayward spirits failing to connect with her deity identity, your search is over. The MA'd Goddess™ lies within. You need only call her name and she will emerge, to take her rightful place of honor.
But who is the MA'd Goddess™? By what name is she known? She has borne the mantle of many a misnomer; Baby Boomer, Flower Child, Corporate Climber, Yuppie and the Sandwich Generation, to name a few. From the first post-war tide of Baby Boomers in 1946, up to the last gentle ebb in 1964, more than 38 million females were born into a generation of paradox.
Just as we were born in waves of proliferation, we came of age in surging tides that left a mark on the American landscape. In the Sixties we were the catalyst for social reform and higher consciousness. In the Seventies we pushed open the doors to women's equality and stormed the bastions of the Good 'Ol Boys. In the Eighties we conveniently forgot any conscience we ever had, and became vainglorious, corporate-climbers pounding against the glass ceiling. And in the new millennium, Hillary Clinton is breaking all the barriers as the first woman to make a viable bid for the highest position in the United States of America – Madam President.
We are mixed lot, with a lot in common.We proclaimed our mothers' lives of homemaking and child rearing oppressive and granted ourselves freedom from the constraints of patriarchal society. We vowed to raise our children in a kinder, gentler and much more enlightened way than our parents had raised us – the next generation would grow up to be well adjusted, caring, productive citizens. Wow, what a shock we had in store when we found out kids don't come with an instruction book - no matter what Dr. Spock said to the contrary.
In our late teens and twenties we clambered out the doors of our parents’ homes as fast as our stacked heels would take us. Our mother's job was to make a home and raise the children. We decided we could do that and have careers too. After all, men had been doing it for years. We were blinded by the belief that we could have it all. Now we realize that only meant we’d be doing it all . . . all by ourselves. We go to work and then we come home to work some more. Whose brilliant idea was this anyway?
Middle aged? You're not kidding. We're stuck right in the middle of grown (well almost) children and aging parents. Despite our bests efforts, the kids seem to be making no attempt to leave the nest (and why should they when it’s so well feathered?) and the folks are evermore tugging on our heartstrings and our time. In their day, it was a child’s duty to pitch in when the snow needed shoveling, the grass needed mowing or the roof needed patching. They wouldn't dream of skipping Sunday dinner with their parents and they can’t understand why you don’t have the time to help pull weeds in the garden or prune the lilacs.
We've come a long way, baby? It’s more like we’re the lost generation ~ lost in denial and wandering in the desert of despair. No wonder we're so tired all the time. And hot flashes? It’s about time we got a little hot under the collar.
So what’s a MA’D Goddess™ to do? RECLAIM HER RIGHTFUL SPOT ON THE PEDESTAL. Join the gathering of women discovering the MA’D Goddess™ that lies within us all and slam the lid on this Pandora's Box we opened. Repeat after me – “I am a MA'd Goddess™and I'm not going to take it anymore!
For a FREE download of Manifesting your Mid-Life, 10-Steps to A Change for the Better, visit http://www.madgoddess.com/ and join the Ma'd Goddess mailing list.
Regrettably, too many MA’d Goddess™ women, have not broken their chrysalis and spread their wings. Or perhaps, having taken a tentative flight or two, they fear straying out into their new world; capricious spirits haphazardly flitting about in circles, searching for true self. Should you be one of these wayward spirits failing to connect with her deity identity, your search is over. The MA'd Goddess™ lies within. You need only call her name and she will emerge, to take her rightful place of honor.
But who is the MA'd Goddess™? By what name is she known? She has borne the mantle of many a misnomer; Baby Boomer, Flower Child, Corporate Climber, Yuppie and the Sandwich Generation, to name a few. From the first post-war tide of Baby Boomers in 1946, up to the last gentle ebb in 1964, more than 38 million females were born into a generation of paradox.
Just as we were born in waves of proliferation, we came of age in surging tides that left a mark on the American landscape. In the Sixties we were the catalyst for social reform and higher consciousness. In the Seventies we pushed open the doors to women's equality and stormed the bastions of the Good 'Ol Boys. In the Eighties we conveniently forgot any conscience we ever had, and became vainglorious, corporate-climbers pounding against the glass ceiling. And in the new millennium, Hillary Clinton is breaking all the barriers as the first woman to make a viable bid for the highest position in the United States of America – Madam President.
We are mixed lot, with a lot in common.We proclaimed our mothers' lives of homemaking and child rearing oppressive and granted ourselves freedom from the constraints of patriarchal society. We vowed to raise our children in a kinder, gentler and much more enlightened way than our parents had raised us – the next generation would grow up to be well adjusted, caring, productive citizens. Wow, what a shock we had in store when we found out kids don't come with an instruction book - no matter what Dr. Spock said to the contrary.
In our late teens and twenties we clambered out the doors of our parents’ homes as fast as our stacked heels would take us. Our mother's job was to make a home and raise the children. We decided we could do that and have careers too. After all, men had been doing it for years. We were blinded by the belief that we could have it all. Now we realize that only meant we’d be doing it all . . . all by ourselves. We go to work and then we come home to work some more. Whose brilliant idea was this anyway?
Middle aged? You're not kidding. We're stuck right in the middle of grown (well almost) children and aging parents. Despite our bests efforts, the kids seem to be making no attempt to leave the nest (and why should they when it’s so well feathered?) and the folks are evermore tugging on our heartstrings and our time. In their day, it was a child’s duty to pitch in when the snow needed shoveling, the grass needed mowing or the roof needed patching. They wouldn't dream of skipping Sunday dinner with their parents and they can’t understand why you don’t have the time to help pull weeds in the garden or prune the lilacs.
We've come a long way, baby? It’s more like we’re the lost generation ~ lost in denial and wandering in the desert of despair. No wonder we're so tired all the time. And hot flashes? It’s about time we got a little hot under the collar.
So what’s a MA’D Goddess™ to do? RECLAIM HER RIGHTFUL SPOT ON THE PEDESTAL. Join the gathering of women discovering the MA’D Goddess™ that lies within us all and slam the lid on this Pandora's Box we opened. Repeat after me – “I am a MA'd Goddess™and I'm not going to take it anymore!
For a FREE download of Manifesting your Mid-Life, 10-Steps to A Change for the Better, visit http://www.madgoddess.com/ and join the Ma'd Goddess mailing list.
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