Sexy Lingerie Or Silver Tresses: Boggling Myths Around Ageing Gracefully

I am not sure what to make of this entire ‘ageing gracefully’ business. If ageing gracefully means wearing a nice saree, smiling beatifically whilst seated on a couch and sipping a glass of bubbly, I am all for it. Almost. I draw the line at smiling beatifically though.

If you are in your fifties, most of you will notice that your gorgeous pearly whites are beginning to behave like rebel teenagers, wandering away of their own free will. The once killer smile, therefore, is a bit strained because you are trying not to show your teeth which are now all over the place.  “Mom, stop smiling with your lips pursed. You look like you are about to murder the photographer,” the daughter said the other day. 

I decided to take matters into my own hands because I treasure my smile - it got me husband one and two- and visited the dentist the other day. After poking around my mouth as I lay on the couch like a beached whale, he said that the whole thing has to do with ageing. As women age, they lose muscle mass around the jaw and that allows the teeth to stray from their place, causing them to protrude or look crooked, he said. “You can either make peace with it or put them back in their place with restrainers.” And how much will they cost, I asked, excited to have my former glorious smile back.

“Not much,” he said. “Three to four lakhs,”.  I have not gone back to the dentist. And that is also why I draw the line at smiling beatifically these days. I have mastered the smile that makes me look like I am in Rigor Mortis.

Myths around ageing gracefully

When people talk about ">ageing gracefully, they are mostly speaking through their hat, because they have not been there and done it. For instance, there you are, having a jolly good time with your buddies and then someone lights a cigarette that irritates your nose and you explode into a sneeze. And while everyone goes “bless you”, you are desperately crossing your legs and wishing you had practised your Kegel exercises because the sneeze also made you pee in your pants. Or, your husband finds your full-throated laugh sexy and complains that you hardly ever do that anymore. How the hell do you do that when, every time you laugh out aloud, your bladder gives up on you? 

It is also difficult to age gracefully when you head to the mall one day to buy sexy lingerie in a last-ditch attempt to spice up the sex life. The young pipsqueak in the lingerie section is too busy taking selfies to notice you but the moment you sidle towards the lacy lingerie section, she appears and is quick to guide you. “Ma’am, shall I show you some comfortable cotton bras and panties? We do have stretch ones so it is easier to pull them on.”

“I was looking for something more exciting,” you stammer. “Maybe something lacy, something red.” Pipsqueak gives you the once-over and leads you to the lingerie version of Alice In Wonderland. Only, it is more roller-coaster than wonderland because there are dozens of red, itsy-bitsy things-even one with feathers sticking out of the bra cups-but nothing that would fit your twin assets, which, by now, are knocking around somewhere near your belly button.

Balconettes, push-ups, plunge-bras and bra-lets but not a bra in sight to haul up my twins. The final blow to your feeble attempt at becoming a sexy siren comes with the pipsqueak waving a see-through red negligee under your nose. “Do you want to try this on, ma’am,” she asks, an evil glint in her eyes.

Your mind boggles at the thought of your jelly belly and your wayward boobs showing through the racy lingerie and that is enough to nix any brave thought of a romp under the sheets.

You are out of the store like your tail is on fire. 

Even so, you take the trouble of wearing sexy lingerie (from 20 years ago), light fragrant candles in the bedroom and feed the spouse something he loves, but everything comes to naught because you fall asleep halfway into the act. The thing with ageing is that while you could knock off 3 Patiala Pegs in your thirties and forties, even a single peg knocks you out in your fifties. These days your idea of fun between the sheets is he snoring like a fog horn on his side of the bed and you on your side, clutching your hot water bag and praying your bladder holds up till morning.

I do occasionally muster up the courage to age gracefully but not much comes out of it. Just last month the spouse went off on an office tour for 20  days and I thought it would be the perfect time to let my tresses go white and free myself from the bondage of colouring it every few weeks. Everything was getting along at a healthy clip, the whites growing out of control on my crown (and on my face) when the bell rang one evening and it turned out to be the spouse.

“Oh, sorry, I think I rang the wrong doorbell,” he stuttered, turning away in embarrassment at his faux pax. It was only when I bellowed in outrage that he looked back and realised it was, actually, me with a new look. “Oh, he bleated, you look different.”

Ageing gracefully, did you say? What is that?

Sudha Menon is the author of six non-fiction books, an actor and founder of the writing workshop series, Get Writing and Writing With Women.

Views expressed by the author are their own

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