WHAT YOUNG WOMEN FEAR: Aging…

Sabertooth does not equal Bitch.

It means intelligent, proud and confident; working to teach younger women

NOT to fear the inevitable aging process…..

As a young women in my twenties I was hot, just like most women in their twenties, and I didn’t fear anything. I knew I’d take care of myself and wouldn’t let the whole sagging and wrinkle thing happen to me. No sir; not me!

In my thirties, I was still hot, but it took a bit more exercise to maintain the look.

In my forties, still hot for my age, but requiring more sleep, and a lot more exercise.

In my fifties, it suddenly was different. I was extremely healthy, so I didn't fear the diaper thing, or wheelchair, but the sagging and wrinkles were not in my plan. I am NOT vain, but I do want to take care of myself and if I can maintain my muscle tone and skin appearance, I want to do it.

For me, plastic surgery is out of the question. It scares the hell out of me. Just look at some of your favorite movie stars with regrets… So I started searching for an alternative, and found it quite by accident.

As a Sabertooth [kitty, not gut-ripper] I’ve learned many simple yet effective things that shouldn’t be secrets. And we will explore my absolute favorite in future blogs.

 

Pass along ALL valuable information you come across, my sisters! Pass it on!

LET'S GIVE THE SISTERS A BREAK

Sabertooth:  when you’ve evolved past, and out grown the  

cougar stage and boy-toys.

 
So, I’ve been told that I’m too sensitive about hairdressers, and that they ask everyone those inane questions. Is that a fact? Do they really ask a woman of 25 “Have you considered a wash/wear perm?” or “Do you still work?”

Okay, so I will lay off the hairdressers, until next time when one is condescending. It will happen; I guess it’s in their nature. All that gossiping and cattiness. Cattiness; hmmm...

Then it’s not entirely their fault. It’s because hairdressers are predominately ‘women’, and women [like it or not] are cats. Big, beautiful Sabertooth cats….

Another issue is one of listening. Every woman I know says her hairdresser ‘does not always listen’. Really? I worked with a woman who’d never had a moment of joy in her life. Well, probably. She was complaining about her haircut. I mistakenly asked what the problem was. I didn’t mean to engage her, but it just slipped out.

She said I told her I wanted ‘it over the ears’ as she gestured with her finger about half covering her ear. I smiled [and tried not to laugh] and said ‘you realize that over the ears could also mean up over the ears, just like you have.’

She looked shocked with the realization that she hadn’t explained herself properly, but countered with ‘but she’s cut my hair before.’

I smiled and as I walked about pretending my cell phone was ringing said, ‘and in between your haircuts, she’d probably cut over one-hundred other women.’ 

Yes, sometimes they don’t listen, or perhaps on occasion think they know what’s best for us, but more than likely, we don’t fully explain what we want. So if you want ‘over the ear’, demonstrate with your fingers.  ‘A little off the ends’, use your fingers again. A totally different haircut? For everyone’s sake, bring a picture.                             

Me, I have carry a picture of Sharon Stone in her famous Pixie cut in my purse, just in case I have the urge for a cut. Sharon OWNS the Pixie cut. She is my idol.

Peace.

RULE # 2: The Sabertooth Sisterhood is by, for and inclusive of ALL women

[I swear it’s a true story]:

My distance vision is perfect due to RK years ago on just one eye. The eye surgeon told me that my eyes would then balance things out and I could see perfectly close and far. It worked beautifully. However he did warn me that eventually my close vision would get worse; aging and all that crap.

So it started to happen, either my arms were too short or my up close vision was failing miserably. Contact lenses! Easy enough, and cheap too since I only needed one at a tune for the close-vision eye.

I went to an optometrist out of the phone book [never a good idea].

She had huge, long puffy hair, way too much makeup, perfume and jewelry.

I started my mantra from the moment I walked in: “I will not judge, I will not judge, I will not judge…”

The exam began and still I kept an open mind even through her many sighs and deep breaths. I really wanted to ask her if I was keeping her from something more interesting, but I did not.

Then she said, “I’m sorry I can’t make you any younger.” Yep, that’s what she said. Then I took a deep breath, and another. And then another.

“I didn’t ask to be made younger,” I said making those annoying little quote marks in the air. “Besides, just what would that accomplish?” I asked with a slight smile.

          

“Well, better eyesight!” she snipped. “And you wouldn’t want to be younger?” She actually gasped in astonishment.

          

“No.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Because I wouldn’t have the experience, knowledge or patience to put up with people like you saying totally idiotic things. Now, are you going to get on with the exam, or shall I consider this appointment canceled?”

“I’ll write you a prescription for contacts,” she mumbled and walked out. I hope that was a learning experience for her about Customer Service, but I seriously doubt it. Empathy is a very good thing; condescension is NOT.

        

Please understand, I’m not suggesting we turn in to a roving band of bitches. Merely that instead of simpering and always deferring, we stand proud and speak our minds. We have to change the perception of older women, one instance at a time.

Our message to the world? “They don’t make ‘em like us anymore. Look, observe, listen and learn!”

Peace my sisters!