Daria Doering

How could a person of substance like me

Be obsessed with aging?

My friend said, “When I stopped turning heads …”

That says it all.

 

When you’re used to being a pretty girl,

And skating through life on that basis,

And you suddenly become “the invisible person” instead,

It’s devastating.

 

I heard an old saying,

“When you’re young, you need to be great looking.

When you’re middle aged, you need to have a great personality.

When you’re old, you need to be rich.”

I hate to admit it, but I think that’s utterly true.

 

I keep counting my blessings:

My husband has always liked older women.

Now he finally seems to be crazy about me.

So I can only be thankful for that.

 

Maybe when I thought I was young and pretty,

He thought I was an arrogant, hard-edged brat,

And didn’t like me.  He didn’t seem to.

He seemed to be attracted to me,

And felt obliged to rescue me,

And that was it.

Who knows?

 

And why am I so upset now?

If I could only fit into a really nice business suit,

I think I’d be okay.

But I’m too fat, and too undisciplined to do anything about it,

And the whole world can see it.

 

Then the other night I was walking home from the video store,

And three teenaged girls started walking in front of me.

They wore tight jeans, wide belts with bunches of chains hanging off them,

Long hair and heavy make-up.

 

One of them was pirouetting around and singing.

I wondered whether they were drunk, drugged, or just in high spirits.

Something about them reminded me exactly of myself as a teenager.

 

Their appearance screamed, “I want attention,” or  “Pick me up”!

It would be impossible not to notice them.

They seemed wild and crazy,

Looking for adventure, looking for guys.

 

They weren’t evil, just rape bait.

I started thinking – no wonder I attracted attention.

That’s what I was like.

I used to roam around at night constantly.

It’s not really a good type of attention to get.

 

7/03