Capricorns Don’t Age in Reverse! A Meditation on Aging

It’s been said that Capricorns age in reverse, becoming more youthful in middle or even old age than they ever were as actual youths. As a real life Capricorn, I have to call bullshit on this. The truth of the matter is that Capricorns have “I’m getting old” freak-outs just as often as other denizens of the zodiac.
Case in point:
Last week, I was riding an elevator when it stopped about four floors from where I needed to be. Three girls — it seems inappropriate to call them “women” — got on, talking in a loud animated manner.
The one in the middle, a broad-shouldered blonde, said, “I can’t wait till next week — “
“ — I know! Your birthday! — “ another broad-shouldered blonde said.
“Finally!” the one in the middle said. “The first thing I’m gonna do is throw my fake ID in the trash — “
“ — Cause you won’t need it anymore!” the third girl, a petite brunette, said.
The three broke into giggles.
I did a little mental arithmetic. Being able to toss a fake ID in a few days meant that the first blonde was slightly under twenty-one. A little more mental arithmetic revealed that I was (gasp!) old enough to be her mother!
On a scale of one to ten, realizing that you are old enough to have a child who is legally old enough to purchase alcohol is about a negative 2, the ultimate BFD. At least, that’s how I viewed the situation from an intellectual standpoint. But I didn’t feel right for the rest of the day. Or, more accurately, I felt old.
I’ve been feeling old a lot lately. Maybe it’s because my joints ache more than they used to. Maybe it’s because my night sweats and increasingly irregular periods are signs that I am much closer to menopause than menarche. Maybe it’s because the “fine lines” on my forehead and under my eyes are looking more and more like bona fide wrinkles every day.
Maybe it’s because many of the clothing styles that were popular in my high school and college days are now considered “retro.” Maybe its because I recently tuned into a music awards show and didn’t recognize any of the acts. Or maybe it’s because so many musical acts of today sample songs that I rocked out to at the turn of the century. Or maybe it’s because two club bangers of my youth — Notorious B.I.G’s “Hypnotized” and Mark Morrison’s “Return of the Mack” — are now being used to shill Oreos and Burger King.


Maybe it’s because I recently flirted with an “older guy”, complete with thinning hair and crow’s feet, only to discover that the “older guy” was actually nearly a year younger than I am. Maybe it’s because people no longer tell me that I’m “still young” when I tell them how old I am.
Or maybe it’s because I live in a society that unceasingly peddles youth. The anti-aging industry is a billion dollar industry for a reason and you can Google “anti-aging breakthroughs” and find ample evidence. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t see an ad for wrinkle cream on television. For that matter, I can’t remember the last time I flipped through a magazine and didn’t see at least one. And why is “anti-aging” even a word?
To make matters worse, I am a woman living in a society that relentlessly propagandizes that woman’s worth is directly linked to her youth and physical attractiveness. And I am now at the point in my life where sexism, misogyny, and ageism all conflate to render me invisible.
So I guess that’s why I’m starting to feel old. And I must make peace with the fact that I will feel that way more and more often because, astrological wisdom notwithstanding, I will not age in reverse.