Becoming Invisible

I write this as I fly through the night, watching lightning course through thunderheads towering above the dark Caribbean. They seem close, to my right. When the bolts arc through the clouds, for a second or so the sky becomes as blue as at noon. I've seen other lightening shows up close at many thousand feet, but have never felt so strangely unafraid. I'm concentrating on another illumination, within myself.

I've spent a couple of weeks traveling with groups. I enjoy the interplay of reacting with people. Living alone, I crave this interaction and validation, and seek notice like the rest of us. I try to stay current, I joined Facebook, I may even tweet.

But more and more I'm the oldest person in the room, and try as I might to follow the talk of Lady Gaga, Amy Winehouse and the "older" music of the 90s, I just don't know the first thing about it. There are so many references and attitudes shared by others that I don't get now. So eyes do not meet mine as much. Everyone's younger. I can't keep up. I try, but I can't. I retreat to the outer circle and then sometimes, away to the safety of my solitude.

I'm starting to feel invisible. And mostly when it comes to men. In my day, let's say 15 years and 15 pounds ago, I knew that if I cleaned up and turned on the charm that I could successfully compete. I wasn't beautiful, but I knew how to flirt, intrigue and amuse. And men told me that I exuded a passion that was compelling and exciting. I heard it enough to believe it. I had confidence that I could catch a man's eye and hold it, when I wanted to. And sure enough, when I started seeing my late husband at the age of 56, someone whom I wanted very much, he asked me to marry him in a couple of weeks.

That time, that magical time, has passed. I'm 60-something and I still have the smile you see on my five-year old avatar, but the rest of me is inexorably fading behind it. I now feel I'm on the other side of junior high. The freckles that caused me such embarrassment at 13 have returned as age spots. The zits on my nose have been replaced by deepening wrinkles around my mouth. But instead of coming out of it on the other side as a visibly pretty girl, I see myself becoming increasingly invisible, increasingly fading out.

I've fought back. I was on a trip with two younger writers, and I was totally ignored by the male. Totally. I just kept getting blank stares as if I weren't there. I was so upset that I finally worked out a plan with the female writer, who noticed the way I was being ignored as well. We would make the man invisible. So when we sat down to dinner she asked me in detail about the interesting relationships I've had over the years. And I told them to her, in delicious detail, and to him, by default. He had to sit there. And he looked at me from then on. I had become visible. He realized I was a woman, not a shadow of a woman.

Of course many still see me clearly as a full person -- as myself: family and friends. And gay men, oh yes. If there is a higher power, it created gay men and older women, especially women who can turn a phrase and dish, into a perfect symbiosis. (I have written about my glorious gay cruise previously, when I was one of two straight women and two thousand men. Oh, those two weeks of bitchy fun, of rapt attention.) And I do get noticed by people I interact with in simple daily ways, like waiters, who love to flirt not just for tips, but because the sexual nature is removed and it's all play for both of us. I've come to love an attentive bantering waiter as much as a good meal.

But really, those whom I meet in passing often look through me, and accepting this reality has its benefits. I'm more free to express myself without worrying about how I appear doing it. I wear a kind of uniform that works for me: jeans, a tee and a jacket. I don't bother with sexy heels which used to hurt my feet. I used to do the whole bit with eyeliner. Now I often just put on sunglasses and some lipstick, comb my hair and I'm fine with it.

And invisibility is safer. My profile is lowered. I'm not afraid of much.

Some friends my age overcompensate to get the attention they once did as younger women, piling on the makeup, pouring in the Botox, shimmying into thin dresses that show too much cleavage and thigh, exercising until they become gaunt. They do get noticed, but often for the wrong reasons. But they fight in the way they know how.

It's not that I've given up, but I'm becoming more wistful and practical, concentrating on things below the surface, concentrating on seasoned skills and hard-earned wisdom. I don't need to waste much time on vanity or superficiality any more. That energy can be better spent on other things.

I'm not writing this to fish for compliments. Fading from our prime and passing the torch happens to most of us, if we're lucky enough to live long enough. I'd be content just to light up the sky, like the bolts I see tonight, every now and then. To rephrase Dylan Thomas, I'm not going gently into that good night. I will rage against the dying of the light. At least some of the time.

Comments

[kwombles]

Thank you for sharing. If you're invisible, the people not seeing you weren't worth the time or attention, anyway. :-)

[lastyellowdogintx]

I'm still hoping for that "blind date" here in Austin.
I guarantee you'll have my total and undivided attention.
Your mind is still way sexy.

[Lea Lane - Huffpost Blogger]

yellowdog, you are too funny. I was in Austin last fall, so you missed your chance. But thanks for your attention.

[pennywhite]

You are not becoming invisible to anyone who matters.
What if you had been a hot young thing, and had gotten the attention of the all important male writer. So what? Who cares if he sees you as a woman. You are a woman. Whether some jerk sees it or not is irrelevant.
I know I don't sound very sympathetic, but the realizations you are coming to now are realizations that women like me - women who were obese as teenagers and young adults - had to come to much earlier. I was not only invisible as a young woman, but I was regarded with outright contempt - not just by men, but by pretty women who believed they would be young forever. Tick-tock.
I did eventually lose 80 pounds. I was suddenly regarded as pretty. Even "hot." And you know what I found out? The people who hadn't noticed me when I was fat (and supposedly ugly), were people who had nothing to contribute to my life. I got their precious attention, and discovered it was not worth having.
Real people - some of whom may even be heterosexual men -can see you more clearly every day. Based on the way you express yourself, you are quite lovely. Keep shining!

[marysandra]

You spoke for so many of us. We share your feeling of invisibiliy and many, even wear the same "uniform". We are the "forever in blue jeans" generation. At least we are different, in that respect, from our mothers and grandmothers. We are probably more comfortable, and can get dressed faster.
Since losing my dearest husband, I have found new life in working with families in dire straits. It is eye opening and not always in a good way. Some days all I can do at the end of the day is lie on the sofa and stare at the ceiling for a while. Then I remember there is a glass of wine waiting and a dog that needs a walk..But getting outside of myself and occasionally feeling that a tiny contribution has been made, a hand clasped and a smile received, has helped a lot. As long as someone needs you, and you care about them, you will not feel invisible. This is not the "Mother Teresa" lecture, believe me, some days just stink, but overall, it helps, sometimes, a lot.

[phlashba]

What a truly LOVELY and moving piece. THAT is beauty. Thank you...you made my day!