A typical portrait of an aunt with shopping bags
An “aunt” usually emerges in a woman after forty, and if she isn’t shaken up in time, remains in this state until death. She’s easy to spot in a crowd. Typically, she carries about twenty kilos of excess weight, having given up on her figure—after all, she’s still acceptable to her husband.
Aunts adore straight skirts: if you tuck their favorite blouse into such a skirt, the belly becomes very noticeable. The skirt length hits right at mid-knee (by the way, dangerous even for slender legs) and strongly emphasizes minor flaws. And a back slit is nothing short of a delayed-action mine. Moreover, aunts wear sweaters from the early perestroika era. In general, they are a vital source of prosperity for the state of China.
They’re the ones still buying Chinese down jackets or wearing similarly cut demisaison jackets in festive colors. And the aunt explains: “I bought it for my pregnant daughter, so I’ll wear it too—no sense letting good things go to waste.”
Former beauties
This affliction also lurks after forty. It has two causes: material and psychological. The material one is clear—money goes to children, household, and husband’s flip-flops. The psychological one: the woman remembers how, twenty years ago, handsome boys chased after her, captivated by her long, loose hair, earrings, and mysterious all-black style. So, she believes, the accessories of the past should still work now. Recently, I saw a former beauty on the street—still gives me chills. Her hair was styled romantically: a center part, waves covering the ears, a bun at the nape—but her entire sorrowful, carelessly made-up face completely contradicted romance! Her black coat, black scarf, and black bag distinctly reeked of secondhand. Thus, Coco Chanel’s brilliant idea of the “little black dress” has successfully mutated into a parody of elegance!
The temptation to shift from being an attractive woman to becoming an “aunt” or a “former beauty” arises when everything in life has settled into dull routine, and one’s appearance becomes less important than a new hallway rug. This most often happens around the “approaching fifty” mark. I’d phrase the diagnosis like this: a woman, burdened with responsibility for her husband, children, and household, becomes too lazy to remain a woman.
And that’s how old age begins. At any age, mind you.
The remedy
I once knew a woman who, at forty-six, took on a young lover, and he helped her maintain her attractiveness until about fifty-eight. A job requiring a presentable appearance is also very effective—it grumbles, but you still get dressed properly. Some women can only be brought to their senses by a scandalous divorce and a turbulent property split.
Above all, from the very first days of married life, one must know this danger exists and never allow oneself to wear out old age just so the family can get a new television. Husband and children must memorize one truth: wife and mother must remain beautiful. Even if it means stepping on the throat of your guilt complex toward the family. Phrases about the “common pot” are very often the weapon of a household manipulator who realized they could easily get new toys. You have no guilt—only the right to beauty and youth. Even if achieving this beauty requires sacrificing the planned living room carpet. People manage just fine without carpets!
