I started my day by reading this article in Elle by Elizabeth Wurtzel about the most recent tragedy that has befallen her: aging.  It’s 2:19 pm and I am still annoyed so I’d better get it out of my system.

First let me say it’s not like I can’t empathize with the initial weirdness of crossing the infamous 40-something threshold.  After all, we women spend the first 39 years of our lives hearing the ominous “it’s all downhill from there,” so when we get “there,” is it any wonder that subconsciously we expect to find ourselves in a empty valley, mooing and chewing on grass.

Then we realize that we’ve been sold a line of bunk and we get on with our lives.  Unless, of course, up til then we have made a career out of whining about our rotten lives.

In that case, we write four-page sob stories about how physically beautiful yet fucked up we were in our 20′s, and how now that we’re actually more beautiful on the inside, our outsides are cruelly abandoning us.

It’s a long article and there are some real gems in it that showcase Wurtzel’s apparent belief that there’s no silver lining that can’t be tarnished up good if you really want to, like this:

There seem to be more men coming around these days, and they keep getting younger as I get older—I’m an interesting, mature woman to a man in his twenties, while to a guy my age, I’m just jaded—but I think they are falling in love with a person I used to be, with a girl in a picture, with an idea or an image, not with who or what I am now. Because with every passing second, I feel I am less physically desirable, even though I’m finally, in fact, a desirable person. It makes no sense, it’s not fair, and it sucks.

She’s a desirable person now, yet somehow all these men just love an “idea” of her? Boo hoo.

“Now that I am a woman whom some man might actually like to be with, might actually not want to punch in the face—or, at least, now that I don’t like guys who want to do that to me—I am sadly 41. I am past my perfect years.”

I had to read that, like, five times to believe she said it.  That’s got to be one of the most shallow and ignorant statements I’ve ever read.

Oh, no, wait. THIS is the most shallow and ignorant statement I’ve ever read:

[But] eventually, at some somber and sobering calendar date, most of us lose our looks and likewise one of our charms—and I will lose mine. At which time, for me at least, there won’t be much point to life anymore at all.

Please, please, please, Wurtzel – when that day comes, do us all a favor and take the pills because I do not want to read any more whining from you. Ever.

I know aging gracefully is a lot to ask of you. You’ve made name for yourself by yapping about your crazy-sexy substance-abused youth; you’ve got a hard act to follow there.  But please, get over yourself and shut up before you manage to squeeze every last drop of dignity from your oh-so-edgy life.

GMAFB.

[tags]Elizabeth Wurtzel, aging, asshats[/tags]