I spent last weekend in Vegas with my sweetie, and there is no place on earth where an older lady is less relevant. As I watched all the bright shiny women tottering on their high heels, all I could think was, “Aw, sweetie, that looks exhausting!” I wanted to follow them to make sure they got home safely, but that’s not my job. All I can do is wish them peace from the land of heightened gravity, or, since it’s October, from atop my broom!

The history of witches is a persecution of power tale. A powerful woman was threatening to the ruling patriarchy, so she became a scary story for wee ones on All Hallows Eve. This morphed into an older woman being ignored instead of feared. Our culture values youth at any cost. I say, “Screw that!” From the ripe old age of 62, I’m gleefully skipping into my Crone-Age! Why?

🧙🏻  It’s a great relief to quit the desirability contest. My Vegas trip underscored the fact that setting myself on fire might be the only way to render myself visible, and that’s okay. Instead of being desirable, I’m much more interested in soothing the fears of the young ones competing to be the “IT” girl. Encouraging them to pool their power instead of fracturing it through competition. A tide of support raises all boats!

🧙🏻  I no longer participate in the rush to a more youthful beauty by forcing my outsides into an “acceptable” form. All that running away from the Crone is futile. Plastic surgeons are sculpting to a computerized ideal, and all their patients begin to look more like each other than their younger selves. Each sculpted face loses the originality of the person wearing it. If plastic surgery makes you feel more powerful, go for it, but be honest with yourself about expectations.

🧙🏻  Personally, I am becoming friends with my neck-wattle, forehead 11’s, and mouth parentheses, as long as I can say whatever the hell is on my mind in the process! I embrace the decline of the collagen that loosens my tongue as much as my cheeks. It’s not that I won’t be judged for my opinion, it’s just that I don’t care anymore.

These days, I want to be the funniest, most powerfully adaptable woman in the room. Because along with wrinkles comes wisdom and the ability to look beyond our appearance. For me, being a crone is a hard-earned privilege, not a curse!

XO
Terri

What do you love most about becoming a crone? Email me HERE. If you are struggling with acceptance, CLICK for help.