Back to the 80s

Time does not exist. It is simply an illusion of our mind created by our own biological and cultural evolution. - David Lewis Anderson

I've been time travelling for the past week.  The launch of Tricia Dower's brilliant new book, Stony River, was a reunion of sorts of old friends and colleagues from my days at the Halifax Life.  The group included people I haven't seen in as long as 24 years.  Some of them I last saw at my wedding in August 1989.  On the morning of the launch, I woke in high frazzle.  I spent the day obsessing about how people would see me after all these years.  In my mind, I was the only one who aged.  The only one who lost my figure.  The only one with wrinkles.  I called my hairdresser and arranged for an emergency appointment.  My hair looked great but my angst was ridiculous. 

I've never considered myself to be particularly vain but that day challenged my view of myself.  I spent the day trying to figure out what to wear.  Would people recognize me?  Would they be shocked?  I wished I had gone on a crash diet the minute I had received the invitation.  Perhaps I could have been down five pounds.  Maybe I should have had a bit of botox or bought a firmer girdle.  All day, the voice in my head shouted about my inadequacies.  By mid-afternoon, I declared myself pathetic.  I picked a dress, did my makeup and headed downtown.

I probably don't have to tell the rest.  Of course they recognized me.  I had a harder time recognizing some of them.  Amazingly they were all 23 or 24 years older too.  No one had their 30-year-old figure save my friend Bernard who is as beautiful as he was all those years ago.  Though the packages had altered a bit, it wasn't hard to see all the bright youthful souls still shining in their eyes. And several of the women confessed to spending the day experiencing much of the same angst as I.

I've been thinking back to those days in the 80s when we all worked together.  Most of us were in our thirties and at the height of our physical beauty.  Sadly, I didn't know in those days that I was a beautiful woman.  I was still suffering from a chronic case of ugly duckling syndrome.  It was only in my early fifties when I looked back at old photos of myself, that I realized I was actually quite attractive.  What a waste.

A few days after the book launch, I hosted a reunion dinner for the group of women who worked together and hung out together in those days.  This was only our second time being all together since my wedding, the first reunion occurring in the spring of 2010.  It was nicer this time, easier, more fun.  No one was obsessing about how we look or worrying about what the others would think about us.  It was warmer, more real, more loving.  Colleen, Gail and Cecilia were all tired after crazy workdays so they left shortly before ten.  But Julie stayed behind.  We cleaned up the kitchen and then sat at the table and talked until eleven thirty.  I loved the time with her.  We were so close years ago and then so distant for so long.  The time alone was a gift.

Today I had lunch with two lovely women, both in their thirties.  We talked about their feelings about themselves.  I was sad to realize they don't know that they are beautiful women.  I hope it doesn't take them 24 years to figure it out.