I’m freshly returned from an annual women’s weekend. This time the venue was southern Indiana at a house on Horseshoe Bend on the Ohio River. Scallops, steak, and Shiraz awaited our arrival. The inky blackness obscured our view of the river until morning. Women with wine glasses have a tendency to talk, and talk we did into the night.
Many mornings found us bundled up against the crisp morning air, enjoying a gradually pinkening sky. Adirondack chairs on the wrap around deck held us as we engaged in the kind of easy conversation that comes from living in close proximity. The freedom to look your worst- hair askance, no makeup, baggy, comfy, clothes and feel accepted “as is” feels affirming. These women whose house I shared are television personalities and partners in law firms. Dressing appropriately is a requirement.
One of my few regrets is not experiencing dorm room life at an away college in my youth. But this gathering of women, I suspect, mimicked that experience (sans the catty competitiveness). Rather than anxieties about grades and guys, we shared anxieties about retirement and families. The conversations focus on the joys of a good night’s sleep rather than the ecstasy of a night of sex. Such is the evolution from 20 to 60. But I don’t think I would trade the sagging chest and etched facial flaws for perky boobs and nimbleness. Like the river carving this vista, our experiences have sculpted our beings. Our collective wisdom is hard-earned. I’ll take that over perky tits any day.