When it premiered Sex in New York It was 1998, I had not yet been born and the protagonists were already almost ten years older than I am as I write this article. I’m 25 now and I’m absolutely terrified watching Charlotte refuse to turn 36 at the start of season 5. But not with the moralistic terror that can be expected from someone who has grown up in the generation of Twitter threads and #loveyourself (because you would be surprised to know that my contemporaries and I are, depending on what things, less deconstructed than you think ), but with the terror of the inevitable future.
The terror of ‘es muss sein’, as Kundera would say. And I also refuse to turn 36, although not out of conviction; I have seen the punishment that is inflicted on those of my condition (women who have birthdays, who grow old) and I do not want to suffer the same fate as them. People laughing while they point their index finger at your thyroid – which is not metabolizing the same as before –, children who cry because you don’t use retinol, friendships that break up because your boobs are not as firm as they were a few years ago. and calls from a hidden number in the wee hours of the morning that tell you in a distorted voice that Anne Hathaway is the same as she was in 2006 and you are not.
I can’t put my hand in the fire and say that reaching 36 is exactly like that, but I suppose it’s something similar. What I can say with certainty is that I read the comments people write every time they upload a photo. Selena Gomez (original Disney girl, later hottie and currently disowned due to the physical changes caused by the lupus medication) and I can’t not only not be afraid of getting old, but also of going over 29. Not because I’m a stupid and frivolous person ( which also, since politeness does not take away courage), but while Samantha – from the same school as Charlotte, determined to stay at 35 – cosmetic surgery does not cross her mind until she is in her late thirties (an idea that ends up being discarded, by the way), those of my generation have been explained with more effort what the baby botox than the Cl@ve PIN. For those lucky enough to not know, baby botox an Anglo-Saxon term that comes from baby (scam) and Botox (pyramidal), consists of a preventive aesthetic treatment for wrinkles, that is, it prevents you from having wrinkles when you do not have wrinkles. I have no idea about the Cl@ve PIN.
What I’m getting at is that it’s very difficult for us girls to make friends with our body so that later they can sell us the motorcycle that the greatest betrayal comes from it, “the great conquest is the body itself,” Umbral said in Open letter to a progressive girl. They are making the case for us sooner and earlier by instilling in us the fear of aging when, curiously, it is the second most imminent reality that affects us. The first is death, which is not so scary because there is still no quorum about what awaits us next; But if Hinduism is right and we are reincarnated into species according to the acts of our past life, those of us who are girls in this one must have killed someone in the previous one.
This is why, when I see Fortune is an old lady (3×05), I can’t blame Charlotte for being unable to turn 36, no matter how reprehensible it is to argue that “men prefer 35” girls; I also can’t blame Miranda for taking only one change of clothes for a weekend in Atlantic City, because she only has one jacket to cover her new mother’s ass; Nor can I blame Samantha, Carrie and Charlotte for justifying loudly to some skulls that that ass is not theirs (now yes, because she just became a mother, but hers is not that one). And the funny thing is that I probably would have done it five or six years ago, but, as much as it’s hard for me to empathize with them because they are disgustingly successful and all their apartments have natural light and cross ventilation, I don’t blame them. Now, at 25, I have become more benevolent, like a grandmother (because as I told you, I am getting older). I have also realized that, despite what I have been thinking all my life, youth is not an intrinsic quality with which I am endowed, but rather a state that at some point I will abandon or that – in the least worthy of cases – will leave me And today, aware of my condition and its finite time, I would like to take advantage of it more than ever, but the only thing I can think of are things like skydiving, trying psychotropics or going to La Pampa, and the truth is I don’t feel like any, so I’ll continue doing the same thing I’ve been doing until now.
Getting older is one of the many things that (sorry for the redundancy) you only learn when you get older; like doing a weekly shopping or that being an adult does not mean stopping being afraid of the dark, but also being afraid of light because it is expensive. Things are going very fast lately, I don’t know if it’s because of rampant postmodernism, because adulthood changes your circadian rhythms, or because of the consequences of COVID (which hasn’t been blamed for anything in a long time), but I see people from my fifth saying that they will never have the same body they had when they were 18 which, although it is undoubtedly true, it is too early to recognize it. They have been telling us for so long that we were too mature for our age that in the end we ended up having the midlife crisis at age 25.
#Baby #Botox #Sex #City #blamed #midlife #crises