" Do You Think You Are Still Attractive at 64?"

I was doing a podcast, or was I appearing? not sure. Let’s say I was enduring a podcast about life in your sixties. The hosts were two Scottish women. They were in a studio in Edinburgh, I was in my kitchen in London. They asked me how I felt, and I said that in many ways I felt better than ever as I had lost a load of weight using Mounjaro ( wrote about it here). In my case the weight loss had lifted my mood, ( less inflammation ) and so I was feeling pretty good. There was a

pause and then one of the women said, “ So do you think you are still attractive?” I misheard what she said and answered, “ Am I still effective? yes definitely!” There was another pause and the other presenter wincing slightly said, “ No, that’s not it. She asked whether you think you are still attractive?”

Now it was my turn to wince. It was the ‘ still ‘ that threw me. Her tone implied that any woman of my age was clearly past their sell by date. Which is strangely ageist and sexist for a podcast aimed at sixty something women. Nobody would ask Brad Pitt or Keir Starmer, who are both roughly my age, whether they thought they still had it. I should have challenged her but I am a people pleaser and so I said, truthfully, that it wasn’t something I thought about. One of the great things about not being young any more is that I spend zero time wondering if I am still hot. I was delighted when I lost weight not because it would make me more attractive to the opposite sex ( I don’t think my size has ever been an issue) because it makes me feel as well as look better. I have novels to finish, plays to stage, screenplays to burnish. If I dress with care, and I do, it is because I want to smile when I see my reflection in a shop window.

Yes I am vain, but not inordinately so, I would be quite happy to live in a house without mirrors, but when I do catch sight of myself I want to like what I see. Is that a ridiculous desire for a sixty something woman to have? My nemesis on the podcast seemed to implying that caring about your appearance at my age was at the tragic end of delusional. Of course, there are moments when I feel bad about my neck as the great Nora Ephron put it, but mostly I feel relieved that my hair is still shiny. I don’t have any tweakments because I don’t think I need them. If I can look at myself in the mirror without flinching then, what does it matter what anyone else thinks? By the same token if having ‘work’ done makes you happy, then go for it.

Unless you are my twenty something daughter, who recently confessed she had canceled a botox appointment. She, of course, has flawless unlined skin, but has been coerced by the siren voices of online perfection into thinking that prophylactic botox is a good idea. Fortunately she realised her mistake before wasting her money.

The thing that really suprised me about the ‘ still’ attractive question was how unsisterly it was. One of the great pleasures of my sixty something life is my heavenly collection of girlfriends who are all generous, supportive and kind. It’s taken me a while to find them. In my early teens I was always the outsider, the slightly off girl that no one wanted to invest in. I have never felt lonelier than I did at 13. But now I feel supported by a web of friendships ( not all women, but mostly). I know they will catch me if I fall. Asking someone if they think they are still attractive at 64 is not a friendly thing to do.

Of course there are moments when I feel invisible.