Everything Girl

“Where are you girls going for dinner?” my mother asked, referring to my plans for an afternoon outing with a friend from church. The question took me back about 30 years, to my high school days and gatherings of giggly teenagers who piled into the back of my Chevy Nova, ready to cruise the shopping malls on a Sunday afternoon. I smiled, albeit a bit wistfully, thinking that my 84 year old mother was probably the only person on the face of the earth who would consider two post menopausal women “girlish.”

I pause before the mirror and considered the concept of being a “girl.” A kind of spirited innocence comes to mind, a female on the verge of womanhood, gazing on the world with fresh (bag-less!) eyes. Patting the puffy circles under my own greenish orbs with a dollop of the latest in a long line of expensive eye creams, I wonder when I’d relinquished my girlhood. Was it with the birth of my first child? The advent of the empty nest? Or did girlhood disappear forever when the “last egg dropped,” at the onset of menopause?

It would be easy enough to fall into a serious funk regarding my stage of life. Current fashion trends often send me running in terror from my image in the dressing room mirror (those baby doll tops and hip hugger slacks fit me just fine back in the 1970’s when they were stylish the first time, but now I simply look like an overstuffed pear!) And it takes forever to apply that plethora of anti-aging products every morning, all of which will be melting on my face with the onset of the first hot flash. My attempts to approach life with girlish optimism are often thwarted before the day even begins.

So how does a mature woman retain the spirit of girlhood? And should one even try? One of my co-workers takes umbrage to the appellation of “girl,” considering it demeaning to women who have worked hard to gain respect in the workplace. I recall hearing my mother in law, an executive secretary back in the 1950’s, refer to herself as “Mr. S’s girl.” No one can deny the connotation of inferiority when the term is used in that way.

Nevertheless, there’s something appealing about girlhood, and, no matter what our current age, I suspect that most of us still like to picture ourselves with the dewey eyed vigor we sported in our late teens and early 20’s. It’s why we’re horrified the first time a store clerk calls us “Ma’am,” or crushed when at attractive man at the bar looks right past us to the “girl” sitting in the next seat.

I don’t think it’s wishful thinking to suppose that the things we most appreciate about being a girl – enthusiasm for life and a fun loving sense of adventure combined with a healthy, attractive appearance – have to disappear with age. Certainly my active lifestyle contributes to my sense of girlishness – a full time job, a part time career as a musician and writer, being a wife, mother, and eldercare provider, all give me plenty of opportunities to experience the world around me. And while I don’t wear the latest in midriff baring jeans, I haven’t yet succumbed to the comfortable allure of elastic waist pants (although it’s tempting!)

Perhaps girlhood is more a state of mind than a state of body. Regardless of sagging chins and thundering thighs, my spirit looks to the future with eager anticipation, proud of what I’ve accomplished so far and excited about the things to come.

As I settle excitedly into the front seat of my friend’s Mustang convertible, smoothing the skirt of a new sundress underneath me, I realize my mother was right in her assessment – we’re still just a couple of girls out for a fun afternoon.

“Great car, Carol!” I gush. “Let’s go out and play!”

What could be more girlish than that?

Becca Rowan is embarking on the second half of her century of earth, and works as a technical writer and pianist. If she’s not out walking her two shih tzu’s, you’ll probably find her at one keyboard or another. She also blogs at Becca’s Byline and Bookstack. Becca and her husband divide their time between Detroit, Michigan and Naples, Florida.

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