It’s super hot in Sydney today. It’s flirty, floaty fashion weather. It’s petite, sweet, strappy footwear weather. So I’ve done what any sane, rational, self-possessed, busy, juggling 40-something woman must do on a day like this…
I’ve just spent a solid 45 minutes browsing a shoe website for a wedge sandal that will conceal the bunion on my right foot. Why do we do this crap? Shouldn’t I be proud of my feet? They help me stand upright, they look great in cashmere bedsocks and silver nail polish (not necessarily at the same time), yes, a little fur may sprout quite prolifically on each big toe, but so what? Who’s judging? Who cares? So what if I can't show off my full foot in any gladiatorial style sandals, or those sexy, nearly nude flatties with the spray of rhinestones positioned just so… you know the ones where you might as well be barefoot?
Why do we - even the wizened 40-something sass bomb my friends (and husband) tell me I am - why do we care about such mind-numbing trivia?
It’s because of… The. Big. Fat. Lie.
The lie society tells women over ‘a certain age’ (a phrase I’ve come to loathe now that I am one), the lie that we are not enough; not pert, collagen-rich, happy, slim, tall, monied, hairless, sexy enough.
Well, I say, enough.
The amazing women at Aphrodisiac Male Escorts have asked me to write a little something for you, their equally amazing community of women about, sexuality.
So, what, I hear you ask, does a bunion rant have to do with one’s sexuality? Everything.
If your sexuality is the juice that energises… the creative force that makes you, you… the dynamism, the sensuality, the fire, the colour, the joy, the glory that hollers, kicks and shrieks to be noticed by the world, your lovers, your family, your friends, you… then, feeling inferior because of a supposedly unsightly bone on the side of your foot totally undermines this force and ultimately, you.
It’s true. As we age, our imperfections reign supreme. Stuff starts to sag. Dry up. Drop. Deflate. Jut out. And so the bazillion dollar beauty industry is ready to save our erstwhile wrinkle-free butts - assuming your derriere has any lines of note.
But I digress.
Stroll up to to your garden variety beauty counter and you’ll be assaulted by countless euphemisms for ‘anti-ageing’… Age defying, ageless, uplift, deep wrinkle filler, repair volu-firm, correction, age repair, custom repair and my personal favourite, anti-gravity.
Quite how the earth’s gravitational pull started to play a role in lifting our jowls, is beyond me. But it’s in the packaging and all we can do is take it with a vat of salt because ultimately the message is a little sinister…
…that ageing is bad and only pert is good. We’re also fed the other fib that older isn’t necessarily better - maybe wiser sure, but… Sexier? More desirable? A head for business and a body for…head? …with enough intellectual and emotional firepower that can decimate a dozen or so entitled twenty somethings with a single barb? No, no, no and no.
And yet there is treasure in them hills - and yours.
The other day, while sitting at the traffic lights, I spotted a 40-something woman who truly personified this treasure. She was wearing loud, high-waisted, geometric-patterned capri pants teamed with a denim shirt tucked firmly into the waistband and a pair of metallic rose gold ankle boots. Her generous curves were so tightly wrapped in those unforgiving capris. But they forgave her everything because she wore the clothes - not the other way around; her stance a breathtaking ‘fuck you, this is me’. And she was spectacular.
When the lights changed for her to cross, she thrust her chest forward and walked with long, confident strides. She carried herself with such a fierce slutzpah* you couldn’t help but stare. Such audacious style is the stuff of real inspiration for us - for any woman at any age, actually. This is what we need to be emulating as we (ad)venture beyond 40.
A woman with slutzpah is so comfortable with her sexuality she doesn’t just walk through life, she struts with an unabashed confidence in her body, her smarts, her heart and yes, her clitoris. But she’s no superwoman - and that’s the point.
A woman with slutzpah is empowered not only in spite of her vulnerabilities - but because of them. She’s more comfortable than most with her sags and imperfections.
The bottom line is this…
Why should we bust our bunions to be eye candy - when we can be soul food?
Phyllis Foundis a writer, producer and award winning TV presenter juggling her marriage, sons and vibrators - occasionally she drops one. She’s written a book about female sexuality post-40 called, The Joy of Sags. Order yours here!
Feel the Joy of Sags here, now. Order your e-copy of Phyllis’ sexy, sassy read here.
* A term I’ve coined - and which you’ll read a lot about in my book, The Joy of Sags. The word marries that wonderful Yiddish word, chutzpah which means extreme self confidence or audacity together with that much maligned term, slut.
If you want to share one with us please send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. You can send us an email or call
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