Chapter 1: A Chance Encounter in Paris

During a fleeting moment in Paris, I found myself unexpectedly mirroring the sentiments of a man who labeled me an “old bag.”

While walking along Rue St. Dominique with my lively dog, Rocky, I came across a couple. Their aging poodle was cradled in the man’s arms, reminding me of my late dog, Bogey. “I understand how challenging this time can be,” I empathized, recalling my own experiences.

I often cherish these brief interactions in Paris, akin to refreshing dips in a pool of humanity. After exchanging pleasantries, I learned their names: Mark and Donna.

“Interesting!” I remarked, “You’re the second American Donna I’ve met this month, and both have dogs!”

Then, inexplicably, I blurted out, “But YOU’RE much younger!”

Instantly, I regretted my words. I barely knew them, yet I had made an age-related comment that felt inappropriate. To my surprise, Donna thanked me for the compliment, which only added to my discomfort.

In the following days, I couldn’t shake the feeling of embarrassment. Hadn’t my research on ageism taught me anything?

What’s the significance of asking, “How old are you?” Perhaps the best approach is to answer honestly and question the importance of age itself. — Ashton Applewhite

I've since absorbed Ashton Applewhite’s influential TED Talk and her enlightening manifesto. Additionally, I delved into Becca Levy’s "Breaking the Age Code," which posits that negative perceptions of aging can adversely impact longevity.

Despite my newfound awareness, my comment to Donna revealed that I still had a long way to go.

I enjoy sharing that I’m 78 years old, but I acknowledge that I’m sometimes fishing for compliments. Growing up, I disliked my mother’s openness about her age, yet now I see that it brought her joy when others remarked, “I would never have guessed your age.”

“So what if you appear younger than your age, Melinda?” my wiser self chides. “That doesn’t define your worth.”

She’s correct. Having a youthful appearance doesn’t equate to being a better person. If “looking young” means I don’t have significant wrinkles or sagging skin, it doesn’t make me superior to others who do. I simply present differently.

Moreover, beauty is largely beyond our control. While I do engage in self-care, which is commendable, genetics and health largely dictate our appearance.

Perceptions of youth vary widely. Some individuals might see me as a well-preserved woman of a certain age, particularly when I’m made up. Yet, in a society that equates youth with being under 30, I hardly fit that mold.

Isn’t it time we celebrate the diverse representations of aging? Why can’t women embrace their natural beauty as men do? Why can’t we proudly showcase our wrinkles?