LOVE this. Yeah, we sure are hard on ourselves, right? I was born and bred by two parents who were both fashion designers. Image and appearance were everything to them, and is everything to my mother who's still here. She's 86 years old, and frets constantly about every pound, and every morsel of food that she chooses to put into her body. The trouble I had with my folks, of course, was that everything looked good on the outside, but beneath the surface, nothing was good. And I picked up a reliable friend, my eating disorder from the time I was a very young child. And now, at 63, my mother and I still engage in conflict. She can't stand that I'm fat now, not the former 20s anorexic that she envied. It's hard. At this point in my life, I'm dealing the disordered eating, and learning to love myself just the way I am. I'm focusing on eating a healthy, balanced diet, and am good with letting nature take it's course. As long as I can honestly say I'm doing the right thing when it comes to food choices, physical movement, proper rest, I'm going to turn the rest over to my body, and she wants to shed some pounds, that's terrific. I haven't given up at all. My focus has shifted. Let the jiggling jiggle! xo
PS. I know you read a couple of my essays recently, so I'm going to be bold and share this link with you. It's a story about my eating disorder. No pressure to read though. I thought you might like it. https://nantepper.substack.com/p/less-than-zero
I turned 70 this year & it's taken me this long to feel comfortable wearing a sleeveless blouse in public. And FINALLY I'm wearing ubiquitous open sandals that cannot hide my deformed toes and bunions. They're so comfy!
Yesterday I took a photo of myself in a new sleeveless jumpsuit, no makeup. POSTED IT ON SOCIAL!
Not beause I'm "gorgeous" but because at 70 years old I'm finally a grown up. 🤣😅😂
"There’s no gaze more judgmental than a woman’s own, directed without mercy at herself." That sentiment was relatable for me when I was younger. My relationship with my body has changed over time, especially in the aftermath of illness. I've reframed my gaze to be grateful for this body that has carried me throughout the years, this vessel of resilience and strength that allows me to keep moving. There's still vanity, of course, but that's (mostly) outweighed by gratitude.
Your photo is lovely, Rona! Thanks for another thought-provoking post.
Margaret, illness must be a great teacher. I've been lucky in my health problems, arthritis and scoliosis. Every day with little or no pain feels like a gift. I remember when the least flicker of pain seemed abnormal and demanded immediate fixing by a doctor.
Before I read this post, I was thinking what a lovely photo it was you shared. I really loved this essay, one of my favorites of yours. Daily I think about how I let myself go…it’s a struggle with my weight and at this point it’s more a concern for my health than my appearance. But I can’t deny that I miss the pretty woman I once was. The other day a very special friend took an impromptu photo shoot of me using her cellphone. She’s a photographer so obviously she knew what she was doing. The pictures of me she captured actually made me look pretty, fat and all. It was empowering in a funny way. Just this summer I started wearing dresses after decades of not. I thought they made me look even fatter. But when I wear them now I feel so comfortable and even get compliments. I just ordered a few more yesterday. It is freeing not to care so much about other people’s opinions. Now I just have to lighten up on myself…
Please lighten up on yourself! My dad was “fat,” or others might have found him so. (He was technically “obese.”) And he was perfect, utterly perfect. There are so many heavier people who are beautiful. Embrace yourself, always.
Wonderful post, Rona. I hate the comment “There’s a woman who has let herself go," but I love your interpretation of it. I would say I'm on the cusp of letting myself go. At 65, I still like to look good for certain occasions, but I care less about how I look for, say, a run to the supermarket. How nice that a woman has those choices!
Indeed! I too make choices and know how to polish up for the podium or a party. It's often said that older women are invisible. I've come to enjoy invisibility. It's freedom.
I, too, am 65. And for some reason, I feel like I need to be showered and not wearing sweats to run errands. Bonus: I couldn’t care less about makeup and perfectly coifed hair. But unshaven legs? I’m a bit uncomfortable..
Maybe you're just not there yet, Teri--in the not caring place. I'm only slipping into it now. Or maybe that place will not be for you. That's OK, too. As for shaving, I'm fortunate in that my leg hair is light-colored so I can away with a little fuzz. And it's getting sparser all the time--an aging development to celebrate!
I love this and have been having similar conversations with myself and friends - to opt for sleeveless when my arms are 'war torn', bikinis when my legs are wrinkled from lost muscle tone - and I do. Interesting this transition and how it ushers in the fashion of joy and comfort like dancing if no one is watching.
hmm - I know what you mean but I am aiming for something in between or at least something that is comfort and joy and not invisible. It looks like your career had you in the 'hair and makeup' limelight and it must be a relief to be rid of that. I never had the pressure and enjoy when I am comfortable, joyful and visible still. What a journey! Thank you for the conversation.
I will refer gladly and often to this post in my mind tonight from the happening rooftop pool at the fancy hotel where you will find me, surrounded by models and clad in my modest mauve one-piece complemented by my distinctly un-toned and daringly dimpled physique. Oops! Looks like I forgot the spray tan again!
You'll have to write something about that, Anna. How strange to be a "daringly dimpled" writer/violinist in the company of all those models. Glad you enjoyed my post.
The photo does convey the lightness you felt that June day on the footbridge, Rona. It's beautiful! I think having a dog is great cure for vanity. I love heading out in shorts and T-shirt with the hound! Just putting a bra on feels like a bit of a constraint these days.
Lovely post, Rona. Reading this lowered my heart rate and shoulder blades all at once. It's lovely aging if we can let go and embrace the changes. Thanks for sharing. 🥰
LOVE this. Yeah, we sure are hard on ourselves, right? I was born and bred by two parents who were both fashion designers. Image and appearance were everything to them, and is everything to my mother who's still here. She's 86 years old, and frets constantly about every pound, and every morsel of food that she chooses to put into her body. The trouble I had with my folks, of course, was that everything looked good on the outside, but beneath the surface, nothing was good. And I picked up a reliable friend, my eating disorder from the time I was a very young child. And now, at 63, my mother and I still engage in conflict. She can't stand that I'm fat now, not the former 20s anorexic that she envied. It's hard. At this point in my life, I'm dealing the disordered eating, and learning to love myself just the way I am. I'm focusing on eating a healthy, balanced diet, and am good with letting nature take it's course. As long as I can honestly say I'm doing the right thing when it comes to food choices, physical movement, proper rest, I'm going to turn the rest over to my body, and she wants to shed some pounds, that's terrific. I haven't given up at all. My focus has shifted. Let the jiggling jiggle! xo
PS. I know you read a couple of my essays recently, so I'm going to be bold and share this link with you. It's a story about my eating disorder. No pressure to read though. I thought you might like it. https://nantepper.substack.com/p/less-than-zero
TWO fashion designers? Oh, the mishigas. I’m trying to imagine the mother who would envy an anorexic daughter.
Yup. She’s quite a mother.
I turned 70 this year & it's taken me this long to feel comfortable wearing a sleeveless blouse in public. And FINALLY I'm wearing ubiquitous open sandals that cannot hide my deformed toes and bunions. They're so comfy!
Yesterday I took a photo of myself in a new sleeveless jumpsuit, no makeup. POSTED IT ON SOCIAL!
Not beause I'm "gorgeous" but because at 70 years old I'm finally a grown up. 🤣😅😂
Yes, that's about how long it takes to grow up! Congratulations, Joy.
Very true. I'm almost there!
Omg, this is an essay. I hope you write it!
Me too.
What joy, Joy! This is the best!
I too think joyful women are simply beautiful.
Every joyful woman is giving others permission to be joyful.
"There’s no gaze more judgmental than a woman’s own, directed without mercy at herself."
Ouch! That one was a bullseye. Great post, Rona.
Haven't we all been there? Can we ever stop? Thanks, Ruth.
"There’s no gaze more judgmental than a woman’s own, directed without mercy at herself." That sentiment was relatable for me when I was younger. My relationship with my body has changed over time, especially in the aftermath of illness. I've reframed my gaze to be grateful for this body that has carried me throughout the years, this vessel of resilience and strength that allows me to keep moving. There's still vanity, of course, but that's (mostly) outweighed by gratitude.
Your photo is lovely, Rona! Thanks for another thought-provoking post.
Margaret, illness must be a great teacher. I've been lucky in my health problems, arthritis and scoliosis. Every day with little or no pain feels like a gift. I remember when the least flicker of pain seemed abnormal and demanded immediate fixing by a doctor.
Before I read this post, I was thinking what a lovely photo it was you shared. I really loved this essay, one of my favorites of yours. Daily I think about how I let myself go…it’s a struggle with my weight and at this point it’s more a concern for my health than my appearance. But I can’t deny that I miss the pretty woman I once was. The other day a very special friend took an impromptu photo shoot of me using her cellphone. She’s a photographer so obviously she knew what she was doing. The pictures of me she captured actually made me look pretty, fat and all. It was empowering in a funny way. Just this summer I started wearing dresses after decades of not. I thought they made me look even fatter. But when I wear them now I feel so comfortable and even get compliments. I just ordered a few more yesterday. It is freeing not to care so much about other people’s opinions. Now I just have to lighten up on myself…
Thank you, Amy. Funny how the most resonant photos of ourselves tend to be the unguarded ones in which we aren't posing, just being.
I suppose this is true. My experience a few days ago seems to confirm this notion.
Please lighten up on yourself! My dad was “fat,” or others might have found him so. (He was technically “obese.”) And he was perfect, utterly perfect. There are so many heavier people who are beautiful. Embrace yourself, always.
Good point, Christiana. You must have had a very special and loveable father. If only lightening up were not so hard for some of us to do.
Wonderful post, Rona. I hate the comment “There’s a woman who has let herself go," but I love your interpretation of it. I would say I'm on the cusp of letting myself go. At 65, I still like to look good for certain occasions, but I care less about how I look for, say, a run to the supermarket. How nice that a woman has those choices!
Indeed! I too make choices and know how to polish up for the podium or a party. It's often said that older women are invisible. I've come to enjoy invisibility. It's freedom.
I agree, Rona. If I'm having a bad hair day, no one sees me, so it doesn't matter. Freedom to not care!
I, too, am 65. And for some reason, I feel like I need to be showered and not wearing sweats to run errands. Bonus: I couldn’t care less about makeup and perfectly coifed hair. But unshaven legs? I’m a bit uncomfortable..
Maybe you're just not there yet, Teri--in the not caring place. I'm only slipping into it now. Or maybe that place will not be for you. That's OK, too. As for shaving, I'm fortunate in that my leg hair is light-colored so I can away with a little fuzz. And it's getting sparser all the time--an aging development to celebrate!
There aren’t many such developments, Karen, but yes!
As for shaving, hang on. At 73, I've got no leg hair to shave.
Best age-related change in the physical life of a woman. Why hasn’t this happened to me?
Hah. Aging is mysterious, isn't it. I feel like I'm a science experiment.
oh, i am cracking up because before I read your piece, i looked at your photo and thought to myself, she looks so cute, i love that dress.
Thanks, Mary. A pleasure to crack you up in my favorite dress.
I love this and have been having similar conversations with myself and friends - to opt for sleeveless when my arms are 'war torn', bikinis when my legs are wrinkled from lost muscle tone - and I do. Interesting this transition and how it ushers in the fashion of joy and comfort like dancing if no one is watching.
Invisibility is supposed to be a sad part of growing older, but I have come to enjoy it. "Like dancing if no one is watching."
hmm - I know what you mean but I am aiming for something in between or at least something that is comfort and joy and not invisible. It looks like your career had you in the 'hair and makeup' limelight and it must be a relief to be rid of that. I never had the pressure and enjoy when I am comfortable, joyful and visible still. What a journey! Thank you for the conversation.
I will refer gladly and often to this post in my mind tonight from the happening rooftop pool at the fancy hotel where you will find me, surrounded by models and clad in my modest mauve one-piece complemented by my distinctly un-toned and daringly dimpled physique. Oops! Looks like I forgot the spray tan again!
But seriously, thank you, Rona
You'll have to write something about that, Anna. How strange to be a "daringly dimpled" writer/violinist in the company of all those models. Glad you enjoyed my post.
At retirement I let myself go with dangle earrings and sundresses and colorful but comfortable shoes. It's glorious. I loved this piece.
Amy, is that a pair of sneakers I see? Not colorful but they sure look comfy.
Like the Keds Red Ball Jets I wore as a child. I have a red pair also. After my retirement seven years ago, I vowed only to wear pumps to funerals.
Now that I can't wear pumps, I've given a keynote speech in a silk jacket, Italian pants and black New Balance sneakers.
The photo does convey the lightness you felt that June day on the footbridge, Rona. It's beautiful! I think having a dog is great cure for vanity. I love heading out in shorts and T-shirt with the hound! Just putting a bra on feels like a bit of a constraint these days.
Wendy, I was not wearing a bra in that photo. And Casey was none the wiser.
Ha!
Joy looks good on everyone. I’m happier now, at 62, than I’ve ever been. Another lovely piece, Rona.
Thank you, Francesca!
Lovely post, Rona. Reading this lowered my heart rate and shoulder blades all at once. It's lovely aging if we can let go and embrace the changes. Thanks for sharing. 🥰
Embracing the changes was tough in the beginning. If you're old, vigorous and healthy, you've found the sweet spot. Big "if," I know.
That big "if" becomes all the easier with camaraderie and support which is what you are offering! Kudos to you.
What a great post, Rona. Jiggle away--we're a world-wide jigglers group. Millions of us, and growing....🤣
Strength in numbers, Joyce!
OK. Even I love that hat. Great post. Self empowerment. :)
Thanks, David. There are some great hats for men too. My husband has quite a collection.