Ce4c56b6474f438824bf aginglikeaboss

My Middle Finger To Society’s Stigma On Aging…

I’m turning 40 this year and let me tell you…. I’m pissed. When did this happen? Yeah, yeah, yeah; 60 is the new 50, 50 is the new 40 and 40 is the new 30. Whatever…I’m still in shock. It was just yesterday that I was a 17-year old punk dancing on picnic tables at Brit Ferrell’s graduation party! Now my ass has shifted, I’m getting Botox and I actually have and follow an anti-aging skin regime. The vanity that once held a lone tube of drugstore lip gloss and an over-the-counter moisturizer has morphed into a mountain of products all containing the words “tighten”, “firm”, “lift” and especially, “erase”. The struggle to age gracefully is real and is currently taking up residence in the Franceschelli household. I feel sorry for the husband.

As I struggle and grapple with the inevitable aging process, I try to imagine my older me: What will I  dress like in 10, 20, 30 years? What color will my hair be? I mean, after all, I am a hairstylist who’s known for her purple hair and I’ve always worn clothes that make others insanely jealous. That’s why they whisper and stare, right? 

Alas, I’ve been inspired to fight the fight while embracing the imminent. That means I won’t be shopping in the coordinates section at Macy’s anytime soon. No offense to those who do…just not my bag of tricks. I also won’t be sitting underneath the dryer at my salon waiting for my roller set to dry. Again, no offense intended to the babes out there that still get roller sets. Those women may be rockin’ some rhinestone G-string undies and sequined bras under their Greatest Grandma Ever sweatshirt. Truth be told, we all fight the fight in different ways; some for others to see, some not so much. It’s this diversity within our gender towards aging that I respect but it’s also the reason I’ll take my straight purple hair any day of the week.

After all I am a BOSS who wears sky-high platforms, shops at Forever 21, gets pedicures on the regular and wouldn’t be caught dead without my false lashes. Ardell Wispies to be exact. So what do I do? I take three of my favorite clients who have “mature” skin and hot bods and plop them directly in today’s pop culture. A culture in which taking “selfies” is normal, having pastel hair is the rage and words like “TWERK”, “YOLO”, and “SWAG” have made their way onto every hat, bag, and shirt! In this culture smacking your girlfriend on the ass is totally acceptable. I have to say, though, I’ve always smacked or grabbed my girlfriends’ bums. I’ve also been known to grab them by the face and kiss them directly on their duck lips…it’s just my way. Do these three babes parade the pastel hair all of the time? No. Do they strut into the grocery store in stilettos? No. Are they rocking sexy, white jumpsuits after Labor Day? Well, maybe that gets a “Yes”; you never know about these three.

When I broached the idea of a “Glamour Gram” photo shoot to each of them not only were they flattered, but they were 100% on board. These three babes are not only grandmas, they are also someone’s wife, sister, lover, mother, friend, muse…someone’s idea of pure perfection.  So, yeah…I’m still not happy about turning 40 and I will continue to get Botox and drown my mug in anti-aging cream. Why not? Every little bit helps, but I will also remember that stereotypes are just that, stereotypes. Those stereotypes only hold truth when we allow them to, when we give into the pressures of society to believe that aging has a “look” and that the term “appropriate” actually has one meaning to which we should all subscribe.

Society tells us women that when we reach the ripe old age of 40 we should start going shorter with our hair. Pretty sure last time I checked the only thing you need to start doing at 40 is getting mammograms. Society also tells us that the only way to be perceived as beautiful is to be young, have symmetrical features and be extremely thin without an ounce of cellulite on our hips and thighs. Listen, I hate my cellulite as much as the next woman but I’ve seen photos of the Victoria’s Secret models before editing and those skinny bitches have it too!  I’m not going to lie, seeing those un-retouched photos made my life. Cindy Crawford, case in point, should be applauded for showing all of us what we already knew but somehow forgot: beauty and youth are not synonymous; perfection does not exist; life is too short to care what haters think.   The bottom line is this; I’m not cutting my hair anytime soon! Are you listening 40? I’m talking to you when I say you can knock all you want but I will not answer. To all of the fascinating 50- year olds that think those True Religion jeans make your butt look good…buy them. If you’re reaching your seductive 60’s and you want to rock a pair of sassy, stiletto Louboutins, do it. Even if you are headed towards your sultry 70’s and you’ve never had pink hair in your life…the time is now!  Society can kiss our wrinkly, saggy, aging asses. 

I must sign-off now…It’s almost bedtime and I still need to apply my heavy duty night time anti-aging moisturizer, bleach my teeth and fluff my satin pillow. Until next time, Live it, love it, own it…you sexy bitch!

xoxo DJ


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