Vanity. What IS your name, exactly?
I’ve been thinking quite a bit about vanity lately. I had to get a new driver’s license. I have gained weight. I’m certainly older. until this license, all of my photos have actually been pretty flattering. I knew better this time. I see pictures of myself and cringe. how did THIS happen? I have lots of reasons but no excuses.
When I was ‘young’, I watched older people (the ones who are my age now) and thought the dumbest things: why doesn’t she put lotion on her legs?, why didn’t he/she comb the back of their head?, why do you always poke along, needed to look at everything?, why would you wear those shoes if they aren’t comfy?
what I was basically thinking was “who cares, you’re old, everyone can see that”. naturally, I’m ashamed. I thought I was better raised than to have such thoughts.
I wish someone had smacked me one. but, I have the answers to those questions now.
because you can’t reach your legs anymore. because you have dried out sooooo much that it doesn’t matter how many gallons of lotion you use, you will absorb it in record time and be scaly by the time you need to dress.
because you don’t see the back of your head, because you don’t remember the back of your head, because you don’t CARE about the back of your head, because your arms don’t work well in the position needed to comb the back of your head.
because you enjoy looking at so many things you didn’t bother with when you were busy. because you recognize you are on the side of life that will be less than it has, and you want to see what you can. because you are older and it takes longer to do everything.
because even though they are uncomfortable, you want to fit in, because you want to look nicer than if you wear your regular shoes, because you want to appear better dressed, even at your age because you want SOMEONE you care about to be pleased with your appearance
I have finally realized that no matter our age, we are all vain. we all want to be accepted. we all want to fit in somehow.
being insecure isn’t just for the young. we watch our children go through phases of needing to dress just like the people they most admire. we watch them needing to fit with people we know they won’t care about later in life. we watch them become part of groups to feel a family away from home.
when I started kindergarten, we lived in Louisville, Kentucky. During the winter my mom made me wear the dreaded snow suit. the one that prevented movement of any type from any limb. we had lived in Germany for 3 years so I had several of them. when I finally managed to get out the door without that, I was in jeans, lined with soft flannel. they had an elastic waist and she bought them long so that they could be rolled up while I grew into them. that meant they had the checked red and blue flannel showing. I was mortified. I looked like a little kid! most of my schoolmates were 6. I was 5. I felt like a dork.
think about that. at the age of 5, I felt like a dork. like I didn’t belong or fit in.
I attended high school in 2 countries, 4 different cities. one per year. it was daunting. each time we relocated, I had to retrofit myself for the next clothing trend. it was never something that carried over from school to school. I was constantly playing catch-up.
fortunately, I began a career as a flight attendant when I was 22. I learned so much about myself and self-esteem. no longer did I care if people thought I fit in. I didn’t need to. I was my own person, living internationally, dressing perfectly because I saw constant fashion change on my flights and layovers. I didn’t need a group. I didn’t need to blend. I didn’t need to wear certain things for appearance sake.
the older I’ve become, the more I have recognized how we are viewed by kids. naturally, they believe we were raised in covered wagons. I certainly thought that of my parents. and naturally, they don’t know why we fuss about appearance. we’re old. how could anyone care about OUR appearance?
my aunt is in her late 80’s. she is such a keeper. I see in her all of the very same issues. she wants to look nice all the time. she wants to wear style over comfort when she leaves home. she wants her hair to be perfect and she takes forever to accomplish anything. she has earned everything and has a right to do things her way, finally.
I am much more patient now. my kids don’t get it at all. they look at me and their dad and see two old people. one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel, as my brother would say. they have no clue we are them. they have no idea they are us. I guess you have to get old to get that part of the lesson.
careful kids: your time is coming.
meanwhile, I would give just about anything to find a pair of comfy, elastic waisted flannel- lined jeans.
This entry was posted on Sunday, October 4th, 2009 at 4:26 pm and is filed under fear, leading by example, timing is everything. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
October 10th, 2009 at 2:05 pm
When I was in kindergarten, once we finished our lunch, we could go out to play until the bell rang. Maybe it was our military upbringing, but I was such a conformist as a child that one day I was eating the last of my lunch and looking forward with great anticipation to my dessert, which it just so happened was my most-favorite lunchroom dessert of them all; when I looked up and realized that everyone else had already finished & gone out to play. I was the only kid left in the lunchroom. So strong was my urge to “be regular, fit in, not be different”, conform-to-the-norm”, etc. that I got up and went out to play, regretfully leaving that untouched most-favorite dessert sitting on my tray. Point being, regarding the dorky snow suit, you come by it honestly.
BTW – Mom swore you once asked her what it was like to come across the prairie in a covered wagon, and if Abe Lincoln really had a beard.
- L