As women become older, they entertain a wider set of choices about when and how they are seen ~ Akiko Busch
Don’t hate me, but there is something to be said for being invisible at 72. Unobtrusively lurking on the outskirts of life, observing without being observed. Seemingly non-threatening. Being underestimated, then at the right moment choosing to remove the cloak of invisibility. Surprise.
I’m reminded of my 75+-year-old neighbor. She ambulates with a walker, bent over from congenital spinal stenosis. Close-cropped white hair, bespectacled with bifocals, with a smile for everyone. “They see a sweet old lady,” she told me one day, after explaining how she always carries a pistol on her person. She’s had to pull it out on more than one occasion to confront unsuspecting, budding felons. Surprise.
There’s a measure of freedom there.
On the other hand, it can feel dismissive, rendering a whole segment of the population inconsequential. Women of a certain age. My sister said she noticed it first in her 40s. Much younger men entering the elevator at work would chat her up. She was safe. Older, not a threat. Feeling already faded from view at 40. Seeing herself as an aging object.