Yes, I've discovered that with age, comes the superpower of being invisible. I still remember walking down streets and getting cat calls from strange men. I was scared when I was a young teenager, then angry, when I got older. "No, I'm not your baby! And I don't have to look at you or even acknowledge you exist, just because you think I'm cute. Piss off!" If that didn't shut them up, I'd follow up by swearing like a Marine. When I got married, I was irritated that the public abuse continued. Imagine my surprise that it stopped whenever I was pregnant. I thought that was odd, because being pregnant was proof that I wasn't a virgin anymore, and should be an invitation to more male abuse regarding my sexuality. But it silenced them. Very interesting. But once the babies were born, I could be walking with all four of them, pushing a stroller, and still get beeped at, or be yelled at by random men I didn't know. Probably part of why my boys, who are now men, aren't like that, is because they remember how irritated I used to get when it happened.
Now flash forward to today. I have stopped coloring my hair, so it's silver. Nothing like a dye job to keep your age a secret from anyone not close enough to see facial wrinkles; grey or silver hair signals your age from any distance. And somehow I've acquired the superpower of being invisible. I hear loud cars racing up behind me, and I no longer have to fear being accosted with rude remarks about what the male(s) in the car would like to do to me, or have me do to them. No longer do men try to meet my eye, using that as a conversation starter, as if just by looking at them, I'm inviting them to make crude suggestions about how our body parts might fit well together. Ew!
On the one hand, it's a refreshing superpower, because it frees me to not have to worry about unwanted attention anymore. On the other hand, it amuses me greatly, because I still dress the same. I despise wearing bras, so even though I'm a generous D cup, for the summer I have lots of tops that either have bralets sewn into them, or have multiple layers of elastic sewn into them, to provide some measure of support. So I often don't wear bras in hot weather. And I have a dozen tattoos, which used to garner me extra attention just because it was presumed that I was a rebel (read: uninhibited) because of them. But best of all, I still feel the same, on the inside. My head is still filled with erotic stories and situations. Whenever I write books, I'm incapable of closing the door on the sex scenes, because those are some of my favorite scenes to write (and reread!)
So even though I continue to have erotic romance stories in my head, and to imagine sex with any attractive man I see in any public place, I'm invisible to them. No worries that they'll ever suspect what I'm thinking about, when I glance at their hands...heh, heh. They see me as a neuter; I'm still female, but not an attractive, sexual female anymore. Little do they know! As I said, superpower!
Her Last Resort, the heroine and hero are both retired spies, so they are both in their fifties.
What's that old saying? Just because there's snow on the roof, it doesn't mean there isn't any fire in the fireplace? Yeah, baby!
Find out more about my books at: http://www.fionamcgier.com