Monday, June 16, 2014

Unhand Me, Greybeard Loon

Today, I pulled out one of those stiff chin hairs with a tweezers and--whoa!--it was white. This and the weird little growth I had removed from my cheek last November, which turned out to be a wart, and I may as well start building the gingerbread house and perfecting a hideous cackle. It's not that we post-menopausal women hate young people, it's that, over time, the way everyone, younger and older, ignores us drives us bat shit crazy. And then they were right, we are nuts, and we do hate them, but not a priori. It's for a reason.
In my case, this is nothing new. I was invisible while young as well. The recent fuss about cat-calling on the streets has always been a non-issue for me. Even in high school, where the jocks called out numbers between one and ten as girls passed them in the halls, I was not rated. You can be sure I'd remember my rating if I'd heard it. Anyway, it hasn't happened to me yet, and I'm pretty sure it never will now. I feel bad for those it does happen to, but the assumption that the experience is universal is just as ridiculous as the assumption that it is harmless. Possibly the only thing worse than being objectified is being treated as if you don't even exist.

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