Do you ever have days when you feel like this?
Well, today is one of those days for me. I've been feeling a little bummed out since Sunday when my husband and I were approached by a man at our church picnic, a stranger to me who clearly believed I was someone he knew. After a casual greeting, which implied that he thought we were already acquainted, he nodded toward my husband and asked me if he was my son. Yes, that's right, my SON! I mustered up a nervous laugh, quickly told him that the man next to me was my HUSBAND who, actually, is older than me (by a little bit,) and shrugged off his immediate distress with a forced smile.
As upsetting and hurtful as it is to be told you look old enough to be your spouse's mother, the really awful part is that this isn't the first time it's happened to me. Though it's been a few years, two other, distinctly horrible incidents are forever burned into the memory patterns of my brain. And quite frankly, no matter how hard the unintentional accusers try to backpedal and make excuses for their mistake, the damage done to one's self-image is impossible to erase. This is something I will always remember and agonize over.
The first time it happened, I was in my early 40's and prematurely gray. Within weeks I went from gray to blonde, hoping beyond hope that the change would make me look a bit younger. Apparently it worked, for a while at least, since it was about 10 years before it happened again. That incident prompted a weight-loss campaign which resulted in a 40-pound slim down that I was able to maintain for several years. Again, the change must have helped out in the "You're really showing your age, old gal," department because another 10 years have flown by since that last time, when a woman in the office looked at a photo on my desk of my husband and sons and said, "Oh, I didn't know you had three sons!"
Now to be completely honest, my husband does look quite a bit younger than his 64 years. He's tall, and trim, and muscular, with very little gray hair. He has great skin, too, tan and unlined. And I don't. I'm fair (and spotted,) fat (again,) and gray.
After age 60, I decided to cut off the blonde locks and reveal my real truth - I'm a white-haired old lady. Plain and simple. The weight I lost 10 years ago has come back despite all my struggles. Many days I don't bother with makeup because it tends to just slide off my face anyway, so yes, I admit that I look older than my husband. I can own up to my reality. But REALLY! Do I look old enough to be his mother? Given, he looks 10 year younger than his actual age, but that means - to be old enough to be his mother I must look 10 year older than mine. What a totally depressing thought. Is it any wonder I'm bummed out and blue?
To make matters even worse, last night as we were going to bed, I mentioned this age difference calculation, which had be circling around and around in my head, to him. Of course I was fishing for an affirmation, or heaven forbid, a compliment. Something like, "That's silly, Donna. You look great. Don't worry your pretty head about it." Even a "You look fine," would have been something, but what was his response? Complete silence. A "Do you hear the crickets?" kind of silence.
So after that unspoken affirmation that even my husband of 44 years thinks I look old enough to be his mother, I had a rough, restless night. And a blue morning. Do you blame me?
I know, I know. Looks aren't supposed to matter and aging is inevitable. So, I guess I'll just have to put on my big girl pants and try to laugh about it - for real this time and not because I want to make someone who unknowingly delivered me a gut-punch feel less embarrassed. What else can I do? I'm not going to get any younger, that's for sure.
I will try not to wonder if anyone who meets my husband and me for the first time might be thinking that I robbed the cradle. That's the trouble with being an approval-seeker like me - you can't help imagining what others are thinking about you. And now, even if no one is really saying it, "What in the world is that handsome young man doing with that old crone?" keeps echoing in my head.
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