I figured out a sure-fire way you can determine whether you have crossed over to middle age. Simply look at the photo on your driver's licence; if you think you look pretty good, you are old. It's really that simple. The adage that no one looks good in their license photo is only a half truth. No one young looks good in that photo. If you are older, you believe it worthy of a Vanity Fair cover, or, at the very least, the J. Jill catalog.
And that same photo you sneered at a decade ago? It's now the one you are begging them to reuse when your license comes up for renewal. "Can't we just use this nice picture again?" you ask. But the registry employee, after pointing out that said photo was taken 16 years ago, snaps a picture of you while you are still arguing, mouth open, nostrils flared. Now live with that.
I bring up this subject because I was recently admiring my license photo at the airport when waiting to go through the security checkpoint. I was snapped quickly back to reality when the Feds pointed out that my license, and the photo from the early '90s that I had worked so hard to preserve, had expired. It was a shot to the heart. What's worse is that I had been driving around with that useless piece of plastic for two months. (For those law enforcement officials who know where I live, I will not resist arrest — as long as I can keep the 20-something version of me on my next license.)
Did I mention the full body search you get when you are carrying an expired form of identification and attempting to get on an aircraft? At a small regional airport, in front of 250 waiting passengers and my young daughters, I got what the security specialist described to me as "the full treatment." When you are at a spa or a car wash, the full treatment is a good thing. In this case, I assure you it is not. After I was poked, prodded and patted down, I was able to join my family. All the other passengers, taking no chances with the likes of someone as sinister as me, moved to the opposite side of the terminal. I tried to remind myself, as the color slowly returned to my face, that this was all in the name of safety.
Back to the point I was making about my epiphany, my realization that I am not only getting older, but starting to look it too. Now much has been written about 40-something women and the wisdom, confidence and laugh lines we should be proud to possess. But most of it has been written by us too, which makes me a little suspect as to how good it really is.
So I am always on the lookout for the perspective of males on these things, to which I sadly discovered that there isn't a one who doesn't like to look at skinny, young blondes with heaving chests. But all is not lost — there are some who prefer brunettes. Despite that harsh truth, I'm sure there are men out there who can appreciate the benefits that age brings to a woman. When you find one, let me know.
In the meantime, here are a few other things I have recently discovered as sure-fire indicators that perhaps you have "crossed over." Not that there's anything wrong with that.
— Your baby sitter was born after you graduated from college — way after. She likes to watch your kids because you get home so early, she can still go out with her friends the same night.
— You refer to the songs on the Oldies station as pop music.
— Your kids play connect the dots with your age spots when giving you a back rub.
— You don't know who Flo Rida is except that he is some sort of singer and sounds like a state.
— You buy the magnifying eye glasses at CVS because you are still in denial about needing prescription glasses.
— If you are wearing a shoe with a half-inch heel or more, you are "dressed up."
— Even clothes from the Gap are starting to seem too young and trendy.
Oh, and did I mention? You think you look really swell in your license photo.
Sue Tabb writes from her home in Newburyport.
