We come into the world with wrinkles and people oooh and ahhh about how cute they are. Babies of all kinds are born smushed and full of defining lines, which only adds to their appeal.

Then, we hit our teens and we become obsessed with getting rid of our character with creams, toners and therapies. What ever happened to looking into one's face and seeing beauty?

Our society has promoted perfection; beginning with wide-eyed prepubescent children, drilling into their psyches that looking like a human with life experiences will not only make you unappealing but unlovable.

 I must admit, I am fortunate.  I am not laiden with deep furrows in my skin and as I near 50, I have a face that is just beginning to sport fine lines.  I have always loved my laugh lines around my eyes; as minimal as they were, because I felt it projected the fact that I lived my life with laughter and happiness.  The little "monkey" lines above and to the sides of my mouth let people see that I smiled a lot and my mouth kept the creases of my upward corners of my mouth.  I do understand that some people do not have my genes and they look much older than they are at a younger age.  I'm not against plastic surgery but unless my skin flaps get in the way of seeing or eating, I will keep my aging face just as it is.

Look at the elderly beauties in these photos to the right.  I look into their faces and see life.  Each wrinkle projects an experience of living and I am drawn to their images out of curiosity of what they have accomplished and experienced rather than feeling as if their lives are over.

The elderly are a deeply misunderstood population.  What gifts they have to offer the younger generations.  Each time I hear my son or a young teen tell me that their generation sets the boundaries of the future, I laugh.  Little do they realize, that my generation, the one before me, and so forth, set the boundaries of their futures.  They just can't comprehend that when they look at an old man or an old woman, that he/she grew up with just as many goals, visions for their future and self centered absorption with themselves.  Every year I hear people talking about the youth of society and how difficult they are becoming.  I know for a fact that this statement has been used repeatedly through the centuries!  If only people could commiserate with each other with the understanding that everyone; no matter what age, has experienced similar trials and tribulations. 

As I look at the tender folds of a person's face and the wrinkled appearance of their hands, I see a beauty that takes years to achieve.  I hope to look that beautiful one day.

 I have great admiration for the elderly.  We are taught as we grow up to have respect, behave properly and to mind our manners.  Getting older means that all of that gets blown to the water and nothing is sacred.  Discussions are open, genuine and full of passion.  My elderly friends love to swear.  It's something that they had to watch I assume, most of their life.  Now, every sentence spoken has an expletive contained in it.  They don't even flinch when they say it either, while I am looking around for my daughter to cover her ears!

No topic seems off limits either.  It's like a river flowing out of their mouths.  As long as your not the recipient of the backlash, it can be quite hysterical!

 I've had the pleasure of having dear friends of the elderly age group.  I never laugh harder than when I hear their stories and jokes.  Perhaps it's because we are so conditioned to expect the elderly to be proper and without humor. 

My grandmother, God bless her soul, had the mouth of a sailor and at 4'11" tall, was just adorable as she made her snide comments about life in general.  What I learned from my grandmother was that being older gives you the right to say whatever comes to your mind.  I would come in to visit her and the first thing she would say was, "Oh, you got fatter!".  I would then exclaim back, "Why thank you Grandma for telling me, I wouldn't have known why my fat pants weren't fitting today if you hadn't told me that!"  She would think nothing of my comeback and then proceed to gossip about the old people that lived in her assisted living community (Grandma was 89 herself).  One day, I ate with her in the dining hall and she wanted to let me know about one particular woman that had pissed her off that day by asking her why she only wore pants and not dresses.  I asked which one and she said, "The one over there with the gray hair."  Of course when I turned my head, every woman in the room sported gray hair upon her head!  I loved hearing my Grandma talk about shows on TV and how she wished she could fit into some of the sexy outfits she saw the women wearing.  The fact she hated bras and never wore them clinched the deal she would say.  It would never happen.  She couldn't lift her girls up high enough anymore because they now sagged too low.

The same sexual desires that young people feel are still existent in the elderly. While the will is there, unfortunately the ability diminishes with an aging body. While in college, I did a sex survey of four high schools (seniors), two colleges and one on the street session. I had a questionnaire that asked people about their views on senior citizens and sexual behavior. I was amazed to find that 95% of those interviewed didn't feel that the elderly had any interest in sex. Many of these people also felt that sex was initiated just to have children by this age group (when they were younger) and that kinky sexual activity and dirty talk was something that wasn't of interest to that generation.

Then, I interviewed a group of elderly people ranging from ages 70-90 and found completely different results! They loved dirty jokes; especially sexual ones, they had sex with their partner until they physically could not but still longed for and missed it. The women had learned so much about their own sexuality through the years that they were interested in men 10 or more years younger than they were so that the men had a chance of performing. While I didn't find my subjects to be over sexed maniacs, I did find that touch, love, affection and sex were still very important to them. It just became more difficult and they had to be more creative.

Now, granted, there was a small majority of people that had no interest in sexual relations.  Many of these reasons however stemmed from abuse they had endured, problems in growing up and the fact that they were taught to think of sex as a "bad" thing.  Many of these women specifically, hadn't had the experience of the "sexual revolution" and couldn't imagine enjoying sex; ever.  They did however express an interest in what the sexual revolution meant for women and asked many questions about why women would want to be thought of as sexual beings.  There appeared to be some remorse in their faces after our conversation but nothing was said to confirm this.   An even smaller minority of seniors interview (very small) stated that a man's penis was the devil or had given them more trouble than they deserved!

 I find that I look at senior citizens and don't see them as old; rather comrades now.  I creak and crunch just like a rice krispy treat.  I snap and pop too!  When I get down on the ground, I need chairs, furniture and a helping hand to get back up to a standing position.

I also find that I am developing "crotchety" behaviors.  While I can listen to my classic rock songs and those melodies of my teen/college years, the music that my children enjoy listening to makes me feel like someone is pouring acid into my ears.  I snap at them to turn their shows or Ipods down to keep a migraine from coming on. 

The things that I truly enjoy doing; like grooming my animals and working in the garden now leave me unable to move that evening or the following day.  What used to take a couple hours to pass by, now requires days of sleep and careful walking so as not to stumble over a crease in the rug or an abandoned dog toy on the floor.  Like I said, once down, I feel like getting me off the floor is as difficult as getting a beached whale back into the ocean.

It is very difficult for me to ask others for help.  It means helpless to me and I am a very proud woman.  I put myself through college; taking 8 years so I could work my way through.  I have weathered many personal storms in my life and consider myself to be a victor in emerging from them all.  My bruises and scars are all earned through honest laboring and my ability to converse with anyone in front of me I credit to the hard work I forced myself to do in school.  Yet, I find myself calling out to younger kids, such as my own and their friends for help carrying heavy items.  I can still move the furniture but now need help moving it back!  I need help opening some jars because of my arthritis in my hands.  I dread going up and down the stairs because of knee pain and long for a one story house after my children move out after college.

My mind however, like many of my elder friends, still feels like it is in its late twenties.  I am confused sometimes as to why my body won't participate in activities that it once found easy to do. 

 As I glance into the mirror and see my anticipated wrinkles, my bulging belly, my chubby legs and my sagging breasts, I realize that I am getting old!  Who needs a tropical vacation when you can plan on at least one hot flash a day?  I am contemplating a hearing test because I realize that I can no longer decipher the mumbles of non-annunciators and that area noise is beginning to block out sounds close to me.  The horrors!

I will pick out rainbow colored hearing aides if it comes to that.  I already have bifocals used for reading small print, framed in bold stripes of blue, green and white.  If I need a cane one day, it will be truly unusual and a conversation piece.  You may have heard of the saying, "When I grow old, I will wear purple."?  This is to propose that purple is a daring color.  Not for me.  Psychedelic tie dye will be my wardrobe of choice.  Bright colorful clothes and long dangly earrings.  Kinda the Miss Frizzle look from the Yellow School Bus series. 

I also know that I will continue to add more wrinkles to my body, hoist my boobs into my bra, wince when I step on a scale, lighten my hair to hide the gray hairs and laugh from my belly so that everyone can see that I love life. 

Aging is not a death sentence, rather a new journey on a new path.  I want to be as sexy to my guy as he finds me now.  I want to fall asleep in his arms each night and if the time comes where we physically can no longer "perform" like we want to, a good, deep french kiss has always done wonderful things for me.  I'll just make sure we use the extra strength Polident before it happens!