While what’s sexy may be in the eyes of the beholder, we have to admit the 50-and-better years make it harder to feel like we’re as attractive as we ever were. Yes, I’m of that age, qualified to add my two cents worth, and I love to write about the subject.
First of all, I’m not talking about celebrity sexiness. I’m looking at sexiness in the real world: my neighbor who still hops on a motorcycle to feel the wind in her hair with her hubby who has none…the friend in yoga class whose skin glows and natural silver hair looks effortlessly chic, who astounds us at 70…the pickleball partner who rocks spandex at age 64, pumps iron and still works with the police…the artist who paints nudes and won’t hesitate to pose for same.
Do each of those, real women I know, share a common body shape, look or lifestyle? No. Some are married, one widowed, one without a current partner. While they define sexy to me, each of you might have a different type in mind. Yet high on the list of what most people say constitutes sexy is confidence.
Age usually breeds confidence. Hey, what an advantage! My own hubby says I’m sexier now than I was at any younger age. I think I see proof otherwise in old photos, yet he insists it’s true. And I have to admit, his smile lines and savvy make him sexier than ever—but let’s leave men’s aging to another post.
As my characters remark, we women have so much going on in our heads that can squelch or stoke sexiness. Many of us were brought up to suppress it at every age. Did your mom seem sexy? Our different cultures/upbringings surely influence what we perceive. One woman’s sexy is another’s dull…one’s daring or even promiscuous is another’s normal or playful. Some applauded this year’s Super Bowl halftime while others thought it went too far beyond what cheerleaders show us all year round. But back to non-celebrity mojo, here.
All that said, by this age we may have had children, empty nest, career, grief, illness, being a caregiver, whatever’s in your mix. It’s too easy for women to put ‘sexy’ on a back burner, thinking you’ll get back to it, then realize you’ve forgotten how to connect to it. Some crash into a midlife reawakening (I’ve heard much on that from readers of my first book). Some give up on being sexy along with giving up dating/marriage, saying it’s more trouble than it’s worth and that they’re content.
My conclusion is sexiness fits into each journey differently. And some women are so unconventional (meet the MC in my second book) that they may not immediately strike us as sexy. But just because one of us doesn’t see the sexy in another doesn’t mean someone isn’t telling her she’s sexier than ever. In the end, who are we to judge?
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Reba Nietert 