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| The Diva Speaks: Delusions of Youthful Grandeur Back to The Family Diva Speaks |
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There is something chest-puffing about belonging in that group known commonly as The Baby Boomers. Whether pure sociological mythology or black and white economics, we Boomers have had quite an impact, have we not? Yes, we drove our living elders insane with the rhythms of our music, the avalanche of our sheer numbers turning what was once the artistic community of musicians into a gluttonous, empirical industry. Now, as the older , pioneer Boomers enter what were formerly known as the Senior years (who knows what the age will soon be monikered?), they and their consumer needs are driving even more crucial industries -- healthcare and its cohorts, pharmaceuticals, fitness, and wellness.
Let's face it, Boomers -- we don't want to die. All right, we can accept at some level that death is, egads, inevitable. But do we have to look the part? No, say the marketeers! I propose that, for all of our scientific ethics and boundless humanity, research and resulting technology is being driven at the fast pace it is by the preponderance of aging -- yes, AGING -- Boomers. Certainly, there are those who are genuinely interested to the core in finding cures to help humankind. But we all know the facts: those folks are few and far between in our land o' green and plenty. You don't even have to own a TV to know that we've been inundated in the past 15 years or so with appeals to our baser, vainer selves. Ads, particularly directed toward women, in magazines, newspapers, on billboards and bus-sides, telling us that we can "defy" age. "Don't be a ninny and give in to your years!" the ads taunt. "Use this cream, inject this serum, join this health club, and you'll be stunning until the day you drop!" Who hasn't heard of the 63-year-old woman who gave birth? Okay, so she was an oddity. How about all of those 40 plus celebs running around, showing off their bellies burgeoning with babe and booming breasts to boot in their spandex, spaghetti-strapped evening gowns, teetering on strappy spike sandals? | |||
| "Hey, I could do that," a million thus-far-childless female heads start spinning... Okay, that was a bit sexist. But let's again face another fact -- not a whole lot of childless 40-something men lie in bed at night wondering if they've wasted their fertility for naught. "No, really," she pleads, "I feel just as strong now as I did when I was 25, maybe even more so! Heck, after all I've succeeded at accomplishing in my life, I could do this baby thing. No problem." The Diva is here to say Bah HUMbug. |
Intro: The Family Diva Speaks The Case for War Silly Unwieldy Varmints (SUVs) Mama, What is Autumn? The (Northeastern) U.S. Standard My Oldest Friend All He Really Wants Holly's Legacy Enough Hate for Everyone For Calvin, Upon His Graduation A Reason for Being Subscribe to The Blueprint: Be first to hear what's new on HTMAF |
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Show me a 40-year-old woman who truly is in the same or better shape as at 25, and I'll show you someone who was a very, very late bloomer.
You know who is in the above category (women who are just as fit or more at 40 as at 25)? Athletes. I'm not talking about someone who's on your club tennis team or even who ran her first marathon to celebrate entering middle age. I'm talking about bona fide, certified, trained and experienced (and in many cases, professional) athletes. And here's the rub -- those folks may not have what it takes to even conceive a pregnancy! Lean, mean female machines are not known to be harbingers of the fine-lined balance of hormones necessary for ovulation to occur, let alone pregnancy. Lest you scoff at my idea that there is, indeed, a naturally-occurring and appropriate stopping point for fertility, consider this test: Dance Okay, this may not work if you were never much of a swinger before, but if you were... you know just what I'm saying here. If there was a time in your teens, twenties, we'll even say thirties, when you could catch whatever pulsating beat was near and make it your own -- I dare you to try that in your forties and feel the same as you did back then. Remember the first time you watched your mother or your aunt or some neighbor who was always dressing too young try to "rock out" to your Rolling Stones album? Remember thinking, "Man, if I ever look like that, I hope someone shoots me..."? Guess what? But here's the real ticker -- you have to videotape yourself. Go on. Put on whichever shoes you think will do your boogie justice (but don't hurt yourself), and trip the light fantastic with those old LPs. Set up the tripod or balance that cam on the back of the couch. Close the blinds, and stay away from mirrors. Now, let loose for all it's worth! Go, girl, go! Do the best moves you've ever done. Then, when you're ready to relax (because we know you're not too tired, after all), rewind and sit back. Prepare yourself to be undone. Afterward, feel free to call your mom and tell her how much you love her. So, we Boomers can live forever. We can be nipped and tucked, chemically peeled and injected into youthful oblivion. We can give birth to our children when we should be grandparents already. But if you do, don't dare tell me that you feel like you would have if you'd done it all 20 years before... you show me your Dance Test video, I'll show you mine. |
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