12 Mar Permission
Of course I can’t give you permission—that’s not my job. And as I said, in the tiny print at the bottom, you don’t need permission, you’re an adult.
One of the takeaways from my childhood was that my life wasn’t mine to live in the way I wanted. Growing up in the era of “nice girls are quieter and sweet” I was constantly fed a series of ‘musts’. There were rules to follow. Girls wear hats to church. My grandfather would only accept my presence if I was wearing a dress. Smile. Don’t be so assertive with boys. Be less talkative.
Why do we hang on to those old, outdated, limiting ideas of what it means to be a woman? Why does it feel sometimes that women can’t do anything they want (without being criticized)? I’m talking not just about pursuing sexual pleasure, but acting out of step with cultural norms of what women are supposed to look like, act and do.
Here’s the secret of coming into our age as older women. We can do whatever we want.
Mix your plaids and polka dots. Dye your hair purple. Be loud. Take up all the space. Take another lover. Show up.
Permission granted in advance by the Universe.