I'm a middle-aged woman and I'd like to apologize

First of all, I’m so sorry.

For what, you ask? Oh, everything.

I’m sorry for the audacity of still being here, still dressing myself, still having thoughts. I’m sorry for being past the age where society finds me useful as a muse, a commodity or a cautionary tale. I’m sorry for taking up space that could be better filled by a 29-year-old who ‘just loves the hustle.’

I am deeply sorry for not fading away quietly, for not turning into a soft-focus montage of tending my herb garden and nodding sagely at younger women as they make the same mistakes I did.

And most of all, I am sorry for still wanting things.

The Expiration Myth: Women Don’t Go Stale

If you’re a woman over 40, you know the drill. People take one look at you and start gently, but firmly, guiding you toward the exit.

Corporate life? You’ve aged out of ambition. You should be mentoring someone fresher and hungrier while you settle into your natural state: low-level exhaustion and sensible footwear.
Music, film, fashion? We’ll let J.Lo and Gwen Stefani stick around, but only if they maintain the physical discipline of an Olympian and never, under any circumstances, let a forehead wrinkle form.
Dating? Well, if you’re single, you’d better hurry up before you hit the dreaded ‘invisible’ phase. If you’re married, your role is now pleasant background character. Don’t try to be hot or interesting—pick one struggle.
If you’re a mother, you should be consumed by your children and grateful for the sacrifice.
If you’re child-free, you should feel hollow and unfulfilled, or at the very least, a bit apologetic about your selfish choices.

And god help you if you’re still fun.