This is a picture that on any other day, I would have deleted instantly. I sure as hell wouldn’t post it online. Why? Because it shows my neck at 58yo, 150# and 5’6.” I hate it. Keep shooting until it’s out of the frame. Today it occurred to me that every non-Hollywood woman I see in her fifties has more or less the same neck. I even lost 60# over the pandemic (dyslexic move) but emerged with the heavy neck virtually intact. I love fall and winter because no one ever sees it under my snoods. Summer neckerchiefs never suffice, though they do make me considerably more neckerchievous. Even considered converting to Islam so I could wear a neck-hiding hijab without appropriating another culture. (I already speak Arabic, so I’d have a leg up. Also, it would be the final nail in the coffins of the nuns who used to shame and frighten me.) Today I am posting it. Because this 58yo neck holds up an ofttimes hysterical mind. I mean that in both a comical and emotional way. I do have severe ADHD. And a beautiful neck. On the right I flash my undusted and decidedly understated blue eyes. I never dared post any picture without mascara, under-eye concealer, and penciled-in eyebrows. No one want to see that! You know what? Fuck that. My immigrant ancestors were German, Norwegian and Irish—of course I’m paler than an unvaccinated white woman trapped in a Measles lockdown facility. Get used to it. It’s how a real woman looks. Radical. A real radical woman. Lol—shuffle cues Indigo Girls’ “Prince of Darkness.” Thanks for reading this.

Do I have suicidal tendencies if I let my hair-trigger lion-clawed cat knead directly over my carotid artery?

Of course not. I’m just that tired. 🥱

#childlesscatlady #nomakeup #nofilter #WeCantAllBeModels
#womenofacertainage #AfterFiftyNoFilter #InvisibleAfterFifty #VisibleAfterFifty
#ALTTEXT