Helmet of Agism

I am looking at a catalogue of women’s tops. I like each and every piece that I view. And then it dawned on me. These tops look wonderful on the bean pole bodies, lithe and young, on which they are displayed. What I really want is the bean pole body that goes with the tops, not the tops themselves. As usual, desire has nothing to do with reality. The tops would look hideous on my actual body; they have no respect for unique beauty.

And of course, the catalogue that I am looking at doesn’t have an item under $200. So it isn’t as if I would ever have purchased any of their merchandise anyway.

Even the Sears catalogue has impossibly bird-boned-bean-poles as models. Not that I think they are unattractive; it is just that they are not representative of the variety. I will not purchase clothing from catalogues, because my beautiful body does not even remotely resemble the bean pole model. The images give no clues as to how the clothes might look on me.

It is difficult to find clothing that flatters un-bean-polish female forms. I am fussy, my clothing has to be comfortable, easy to clean, and durable; attractive comes last on my list, and seldom gets any consideration at all due to lack of availability. During the day at home, I opt for my bib overalls or inexpensive flannel pyjama pants and a T-Shirt. I have to change my clothes, to venture off the property.

Another pet peeve is hairstyles. I cannot believe the hairstyles foisted upon older women at the local salons. I’ve no interest in wearing the helmet of agism, just because it is the only style that hairdressers seem capable of producing on mature subjects. To add insult to injury, getting one’s haircut requires running the gauntlet of a chemical extravaganza. Then there is the gossip that circulates like fumes in salons; icing on the cake. From time to time I consider shaving my head, just to avoid the whole sorry business. So far I’ve chosen the other option, to let my hair grow, occasionally trimming it myself, as I watch, almost helplessly, in the mirror. Usually once a year I break down and pay someone to cut my hair. Something like death and taxes.

My sister cuts my Mom’s hair. The style flatters my Mom’s natural beauty (which, I admit, is considerable, making it an easy job) and also captures her buoyant spirit. Sis isn’t a hairstylist; what she possesses is respect and appreciation for my Mom. I figure if my sister can manage to create a respectful image, then a hairstylist ought to be able to manage it. I’ve only ever found one, and he lives in a distant city.

Presenting oneself in public is fraught with misery.

Our remaining snow banks have melted down into pure ice. The snow that was shovelled off the deck during the winter is still about 5 feet high. However, most of the yard is free of snow. Yesterday and today I spent some time out in the sunshine collecting fallen branches from the front yard. I also collected gravel. We have a gravel drive and every winter some of it gets shovelled onto the lawn with the snow. Every spring I wander about with my plastic bucket, gathering gravel as I would Easter Eggs on a hunt.

Attila has begun his annual cleaning of the wood shed, getting it ready for stacking next winter’s firewood. We are still burning a fire every morning, to keep the chill out. Hopefully we will soon be able to abandon our masonry heater, until next autumn.

Ontario Barns April 21, 2013 [Taken at 90 km an hour, through a closed car window.]
Web 2 brown roof

Worldly Distractions


Condition: Sunny
Pressure: 102.3 kPa
Visibility: 16 km
Temperature: 8.6°C
Dewpoint: -1.2°C
Humidity: 50%
Wind: SSE 21 gust 39 km/h


For Attila.

“I prefer by far warmth and softness to mere brilliancy and coldness… some people remind me of sharp dazzling diamonds. Valuable but lifeless and loveless. Others, of the simplest field flowers, with hearts full of dew and with all the tints of celestial beauty reflected in their modest petals.”
Anais Nin

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Mist will not be pleased with the end of heating season. Here’s wishing her strong rays of sun in which to sleep when her beloved masonry heater goes into its warm-weather hiatus.

Joan Lansberry

I cut my own bangs, while Julia cuts the rest of my hair when it’s needed. I have a basic style, at home or not. Long full skirts and tailored shirts. I’ve found what is called “men’s shirts” to be made of nicer fabric and more comfortable than the ones made for women. (Of course, sometimes the ‘at home’ wear is the nightgown worn past early morning. :))


From the pictures you have posted Joan, I’d say Julia is doing you proud.

Long full skirts sound comfortable Joan, I might just have a look around and see what I can find. I have two men’s shirts that are just about worn out, some holes and fraying collars and cuffs; when did that happen! They are both over fifteen years old.


Everything you said, me too. If you aren’t the bean-pole variety woman, just don’t even bother. Men’s shirts? Hmmm, I will check that out. Might be a solution for me.


We are in the majority Bex!


I was such a wonderful time, to end my working career (suits, briefcase) and be able to wear what is comfortable and easy to care for. I no longer concern myself with how I look to others, for the most part, though I occasionally dress up out of respect for others’ situations (wedding, for instance).

So I live in jeans and tee shirts, second hand cashmere sweaters and comfy shoes (or sandals depending on the weather). I gave away all my stuffy work clothes to a charitable organization that works with homeless women who are trying to get jobs (need to look nice for interviews) and places to live.

I’m grateful for a time in my life when I can clothe my non-bean-pole body in a way that suits me and stop paying attention to all the requirements of fashion and business.

I also got rid of all the structured bras and now wear only sports bras. Whew! That’s a relief!


Sarah, I forgot about the bras! What torture they were! Sports bras really are much more comfortable, and camisoles work very well too, if one needs to be worn at all. I like braless best, but can’t get away with it in the workplace.