I’m blessed with a wonderfully eclectic group of fabulous female friends—different ages, lifestyles, and stages of life. Whenever we gather for a ladies’ night, we often find our conversations gravitating toward the state of affairs on being a woman. We fuss and laugh and raise our margaritas in solidarity. In our exasperation, we rail about the unfairness of it all and how we can be a force for change, leverage our voting power, and support all the right causes. 

But there’s one hot topic that carries with it both a collective and individual third-degree burn—growing older. And there’s not a cause or politician that can do a damn thing about that!

The Storms of Aging

Only three of us in the group are over 50, and being a bit more of an instigator than the rest, I’ve appointed myself as the official Severe Weather Warning System to help our youngins brace for the inevitable storms of aging. They cackle at my self-deprecating, blunt honesty and think my “Guess What Happened to Me Today?” stories are hysterical. But little do they know, I’m working overtime to stack sandbags around the walls of their unsuspecting hearts and minds because the climate change of aging is REAL. Every year, the storms get wilder, more unpredictable, and more destructive. And my precious ones need to be prepared. (Cue the tornado sirens!)

Page 6, section 9, article 4 of my “Surviving and Thriving“ disaster plan outlines an often-overlooked atmospheric phenomenon called Invisible Woman Syndrome. It’s an insidious wave of high pressure that builds up over time from the accumulation of dusty social constructs and weathered double standards that blind the world from seeing women as they enter middle age. And in some cases, this pressure system moves in so stealthily that even some middle-aged women are blinded from seeing it themselves. (Oh, how I love an extended metaphor!) 

Middle-Aged Invisibility is Real

Unfortunately, I haven’t concocted the term Invisible Woman Syndrome in an attempt at humor. It’s an actual societal phenomenon that’s been well-documented and studied. As more and more women share their stories about aging and their experiences of moving through menopause, the demand for the medical and mental health communities to pay more attention to the uniqueness of our health and well-being is becoming louder and louder—like an approaching hail storm, if you will. 

Now, when you look up Invisible Woman Syndrome, you’ll notice that a lot of the definitions and descriptions suggest this is something we women have, like a diseased distortion of reality. However, the reality is that our youth-obsessed culture, born out of the double standards of the past, closes its eyes to the contributions, significance, and overall value of women as we age. A literal cultural isolation begins, affecting every aspect of our lives: our careers, our love lives, our families, and our “place” in society.

Sometimes Life Imitates Art

Not too long ago, a few of my girlfriends and I were enjoying an evening on a lovely downtown patio when we noticed our handsome young server chatting it up with the table of cute twenty-somethings right next to us. As he delivered their second round of cocktails, our glasses had been empty for a while. My lady friends and I sat stewing in our seats. 

And Just. Like. That. It hit me! We were having a Sex in the City backlash moment! We’re obviously too old to be partying it up as if we’re living our best lives, full of fun, fulfillment, and fabulousness! While my fabulous friends continued to wave down our server, one of them frustratingly remarked, “It’s like he doesn’t even see us!” 

Whew! What a BIG statement! The conversation turned to the ridiculous irony of our invisibility given the number of degrees, accomplishments, and vivacious personalities sitting at the table. 

An air of pained realization hung in the air, especially for those in our late forties and fifties. We side-eyed the table full of youthful beauty, rolled our eyes at them in feigned dismissal, and nervously sipped from our water glasses (still no refills). 

And then we started to share in bits and pieces the stories and frustrations that justified our discomfort:

I wore my favorite, slinky, black dress tonight, and not one man acknowledged my existence as I walked down the block. 

My son’s teacher barely spoke to me at Open House. I know I’m an older mom, but the girl knows I’m his mother!

A young woman followed me into the bathroom at a wedding and asked how well I knew the man sitting next to me. “Pretty damn well! He’s my husband!”  

When I went to introduce myself to the new attorney at our firm, he assumed I was his executive assistant and not one of the partners. And after two weeks, he still can’t remember my name.

Why are all of the female newscasters and sportscasters beautiful, young Barbie dolls when the majority of the men are old, bald, unattractive, and overweight?

Most men my age on dating apps are only interested in women young enough to be their daughters! 

I always smile at people at the grocery store, but I’ve noticed fewer and fewer people make eye contact these days. What’s up with that? 

My gynecologist hasn’t asked me about my sex life or STD testing since my divorce two years ago. Does he think I couldn’t possibly be sexually active? 

Why do all the movies about women our age have us pit against young women for the attention of a man? Women run countries, invent shit, save lives, and solve global problems. 

Please tell me why my husband laughed at me when I walked into the kitchen naked while he was stealing a plate of leftovers out the fridge. 

It was a deep, primordial venting session, and the youngins looked on, wide-eyed and frozen in bewilderment. Never before had they witnessed this kind of weather pattern. 

Talk It Out and Take Action

Time to track the storm. 

So, jumping into action, I asked, “Alright, ladies, exactly how do you want to be seen?”

By this time, the handsome server had decided we tipped better than the pretty young things, and we were now halfway into our second round of cocktails. 

The answers flew around the table like scattered debris: “I want to be seen as accomplished, valued, capable, interesting, fun, worthy, attractive, sexy, alive.” A mighty big pile was left to sort through. 

“Ok, fair enough. So, whose eyes get to make those judgments? I mean, ‘being seen’ pretty much depends on the eyes of other people. Don’t you think? So why are we making this about us?” 

Uh-oh…hang on…here we go!!

A rushing gale of “Yeah, but…”; “It’s not fair…”; “Men get to…”; “Society needs to…”; “Hollywood reinforces…” just about knocked me down. Even the youngins chimed in with their support.

For the rest of the evening, we rode out the hurricane of emotions and indignations with a third round of cocktails and the camaraderie of united sisterhood. And we came to some surprisingly sober conclusions. 

Because here’s the thing, our little group is exhausted and dumbfounded that we are still expected to batten down the hatches against age-old societal norms and expectations about how we should be living our lives as women. 

So we’ve decided to turn our faces toward the sun and take back control of how we see ourselves, use our voices, display our vitality, and move through this world. And, yes, we may be provocative and disruptive, but we refuse to be erased. 

It’s All About Mindset

Somewhere scribbled on a few cocktail napkins, the back of coupons, and someone’s yellow sticky notes, our addendum to the “Surviving & Thriving” disaster plan took shape: 

i. We release the societal programming that tells women to seek validation and worth through the eyes of others. (I know I look good… for any age!)

ii. We refuse to view young women as the enemy and acknowledge that comparison is an act of violence against ourselves and others. (Darlin,’ I’m here when you discover that first weird chin hair.)

iii. We choose health, vitality, activity, adventure, nutrition, and self-care over external, surface beauty standards. (Yes, I climbed a fourteener and lived to tell the story!)

iv. We will care for our bodies, engage our minds, express our emotions, and protect our spirituality. (Don’t ask her to cancel her yoga class!)

v. We will use our voices to speak up for ourselves and proudly share our gifts, talents, skills, and impact with the world. (Thank you, sweet woman, for sharing your pear preserves with me!)

vi. We will act like we know we matter, our opinions matter, our experience matters, our inclusion matters, and our perspective matters. (When AI makes you sound stupid, I’ll help you rewrite that blog.)

vii. We will exercise gratitude, be bold and courageous, and devote our energy to living our best lives. (You’ve resigned from a 20-year career and started a new business? Aren’t you the boss!)

viii. We will invite others in, take an interest in new ideas, and stay current about the world around us. (So, you know how to propagate succulents? Help and thank you!)

ix. We celebrate our femininity, our sexuality, our motherhood, our sisterhood, and the power we possess to love fiercely. (Excuse me, darling. Please put down that plate of leftovers. I’m naked in your kitchen. It’s time to get cookin’!)

Okay, so I took the task and ran with it a bit, but I’m the writer of the group, after all. The ladies would expect nothing less. 

Bess Arrington is a freelance content writer, copywriter, and marketer in Memphis, TN. She is a cheerleader for all things socially responsible, sustainable, healthy, and empowering. She believes in ferocious positivity as a mindset, energy source, change maker, and dream builder.