WRITTEN BY FRIEDA LEVYCKY, FOUNDER OF BRAVING BOUNDARIES
“So, I’m old and weak?” Fabulous! Well, that’s a good start to a Monday!
My friends and I burst out laughing at girls’ night last week as I relayed the story of my yoga instructor helping me stretch further into a pigeon pose than I’d ever managed before. Post class, he gave me some feedback: “Older women …” he started, then quickly corrected himself: “I mean, women who are more mature … need additional weight to progress into positions, as flexibility is just not enough as we get older. Your hips and shoulders are flexible, but weak”. To be fair, his feedback was probably meant to be encouraging. I mean, I am (a bit) older now and I do have weak spots in my body, but all I heard was: old and weak.
So, of course, I went home and did what any reasonable, totally well-balanced woman would do. I studied myself for a good ten minutes in front of the mirror. First my face then, for good measure, the rest of me too. Am I old? Is that how the world sees me now? Inside, I still feel like that flirty little nymph; the young lawyer who tottered around the office in very high heels and a dress. I’m the runner, the traveller, the yoga pretzel, the one who’s never been fussed about make-up. Ever since I was at school, I was always the youngest of the group (an August birthday has its perks). That’s still how I see myself, but is that really how the rest of the world sees me? Or have I quietly, without meaning to, stepped into this “tannie” role (as they say in South Africa)? Not properly old, not exactly young either, but that strange middle space of invisibility.
The Invisibility Cloak of Middle Age
A friend of mine told me she knew she’d officially crossed the line when, at 50, the teenage checkout assistant asked if she’d like to use her pensioner discount. “For f**k’s sake!” she laughed, describing how she marched home, dumped the shopping and demanded of her husband and friend: “Do I look like a pensioner?”. There really was only one correct answer to that question and, fortunately, both men were wise enough to choose it.
Another friend recalled standing in a wine bar bathroom next to a gaggle of 20-somethings on a hen party and catching her reflection beside theirs. The contrast was sobering. Others have shared those silly, but defining, moments when you realise you’ve officially lost track of what “Whip/Nae Nae” is (yes, I did need to look up the spelling for that as I did originally write “Nay Nay”), let alone how to dance to it.
To be fair, I can still give them a run for their money if Whigfield or Steps comes on the radio. I’ve always nailed “Saturday Night” and “Tragedy.”
The Double-Edged Sword of Invisibility
There’s a strange freedom in becoming invisible though. Fewer eyes watching, fewer judgements, fewer comparisons. However, it can also be lonely. You start to notice the subtle ways the world stops looking your way: the compliments fade, the flirtatious glances vanish and shop assistants suddenly call you “Ma’am”.
I used to be judgmental about women who turned to Botox or surgery. I’d make sweeping statements about “ageing gracefully” and “accepting yourself”, but as I inch closer to that stage, I can feel myself softening. I understand now that it’s not always about vanity. Sometimes it’s about visibility. About wanting to feel seen again in a world that treats women’s ageing as something to hide.
There’s something to be said for doing what makes you feel good in your own skin. Whether that’s fillers or face yoga, Spanx or squats. Seriously, who am I to judge? If it lifts your spirits, then that’s what matters.
Clearly, I’ve been talking about ageing a lot because Instagram’s now decided that I’m obsessed. My feed has been flooded with clips from Paris Fashion Week: a stunning parade of ageless icons like Helen Mirren, Heidi Klum, Jane Fonda, Gillian Anderson, Iris Berben, Andie MacDowell and Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu drifting effortlessly down the runway, and snippets of Patricia Routledge’s Letter to Life which she wrote for her 95th birthday. Alongside them, the quote that keeps popping up: “Too young, too old, too bold. Whatever you do, someone will always judge your choices”. How accurate that statement is.
It’s almost as if the universe (or the algorithm) is forcing me to re-check my thinking. Some of those women have chosen the surgical route; others have aged naturally and all of them looked magnificent. There really isn’t a single right way to do this ageing thing.
Old Bird, Strong Body
This past week, after all the “old and weak” jokes, I went back to yoga and did a Bikram class. I’ve trained on and off in Bikram for 15 years (I even took my teaching qualifications back in 2017), but this was my first class in months. For anyone who’s ever sweated through those 26 poses in 40 degrees, you’ll know: no class is ever the same. Yet, that class was one of the magical ones; one where everything clicks. My bow-pulling pose was strong, my balance steady and I felt incredible.
At the end, a gorgeous, blonde twenty-something bounced over to me and said: “Wow! How long have you been practising? I hope one day I can be just like you”. Now, if that doesn’t make an “old bird” smile, I don’t know what will.
Rewriting the Narrative
The reality is that I’m new to this ageing thing. I don’t have all the answers and I know damn well that the only way to get them is to walk through this period of my life. What I have started to realise though is that I’ve been joking a lot about ageing lately. I’ve been laughing it off, making quips about “feeling ancient”, but … I’ve also started to notice it (that feeling of being old) and, if I’m not careful, I’ll end up believing my own words too. Negative self-talk rewires the brain and I’m not ready to programme mine to think I’m old and weak.
So, I’m changing the script. I’ve set myself a new mantra to stop the negative seeping in:
“I’m healthy, happy and still a little bit fabulous. This body has seen things, done things, climbed mountains, danced in heels and still gets me through yoga. She’s not old or weak. She’s strong and full of life.”
Ageing is a privilege, one that’s easily forgotten until you realise that not everyone is given that gift.
So, here’s to all the “old birds” out there, laughing our way through yoga classes, mirror reflections and checkout discounts. May we never forget: we are anything but invisible.
