At 43, I’ve reached the stage where women are warned to watch out for the creeping sadness of middle age. We’re served up an endless stream of advice on “how to survive your 40s”，as if we’re in the endurance stage of a slow limp toward (26) _____. This is the age women start to become “invisible”—our value, attractiveness and power supposedly (27) _____ by the vanishing of youth. But I don’t feel like I’m fading into (28) _____. I feel more seen than I ever have, and for the first time in my life, I have a clear-eyed view of myself that is (29) _____, compassionate and accepting.
When I look in the mirror, I’m proud of who I am—even those “broken” parts that for so long seemed impossible to love. So when advertisers try to sell me ways to “turn back the clock”, I have to (30) _____ a laugh. I wouldn’t go back to the crippling self-consciousness of my youth if you paid me. This hard-won sense of self-acceptance is one of the joys of being an older woman. But it’s a narrative often (31) _____ out by the shame that marketers rely on to peddle us their diet pills, miracle face creams and breathable yoga pants—as if self-love is a (32) _____ commodity.
For some women I know, this sense of trust and self-belief later in life gave them the courage to leave dysfunctional relationships or (33) _____ on new career paths. Others talked about enjoying their own company, of growth through (34) _____, deepening bonds of friendships, the ability to be more compassionate, less judgmental and to listen more and appreciate the small pleasures. Life past 40 is far from smooth sailing, but it’s so much more than the reductive (35) _____ we see in women’s magazines and on the Hollywood big screen.
