Recently a video of a a 90-ish year old woman dancing dancing precisely and energetically to accordion music has been circulating on the internet. You may have seen it too; it deserves to be seen. A powerhouse, this tiny woman. What keeps screaming ‘old crone’ is her dramatic dowagers hump. From the chest down she could be 40. But her breasts point south like dousers, pulling her down for what has had to be some 8+ decades.
This is attributable to osteoporosis of course, but I believe the dowagers hump became the dowagers hump, not the dukes hump for a reason. As women, the cultural demands of modesty dictate that we not flaunt our breasts. And breasts have weight. Doesn’t matter what size they are; If you don’t have your shoulders back and on any level feel a need to conceal them walking down the street, they will with time, pull you down into the shape of a question mark.
Weight bearing exercise is prescribed as an antidote to the toll time takes on bones. I’m no doctor, but I’ve often heard and read this and it makes sense. The musculature must support the spine as the spine grows frailer. And here we are, as women, walking around to one degree or another with built in kettle bells, but instead doing lifts, we’re letting them drag us down with shame.
There’s verbiage attached to the breast that I find detestable. A boob is an idiot. Its an insult and conveys contempt. It is also one of the most used colloquialisms for breast. So not wanting to be seen as contemptible, we slump.
I say no to boobs. So what then? Tits? Melons? Rack? Gazongas? Nah. Animals. I say yes to animals. Stick those animals out, ladies. Animals are wild, alive and know no shame.
Stand up, press your shoulders back and down, and lift your sternum towards the sky. It will feel forced, exaggerated. But then look sideways in a mirror. You will see someone simply standing up straight. Now breathe, and relax your lower back. If you tend to have some pain there, you will probably feel it disappear. A weight has been lifted. And now the challenge: Go out and walk around like that. Breathe into it. Keep your back relaxed. (Thats right, your hips will sway.)
Notice who’s around when you want to let your chest cave in. Resist, make eye contact, and carry on. This alone will change your life. And don’t worry. Oddly enough, no one will fuck with you. I know its tougher when you’re young. But when you’re my age you know what happens,? Other women start to shout out at you on the street: “love your hair!” “That necklace really works on you!” (its a tattoo, actually.)
You get cheered on, not jeered on. You are no longer invisible.