Being a sex goddess after 50? No thanks!
Lock up your grandfathers! Dolly Parton, 74, is threatening to pose for the cover of Playboy Magazine — more than four decades since she last graced its pages. She even plans to wear the same bunny costume. ‘I could probably use it,’ she said. ‘Boobs are still the same.’
Next up is Amanda Redman, 62, star of the BBc’s New Tricks and the ITV drama The Good karma Hospital, making an impassioned plea for more on-screen sex for the over-50s.
She adds that in Britain we view the idea of sexually confident older women as ‘repulsive’. ‘There’s ageism involved,’ she says.
And then there’s Tena (as in the incontinence pads), which launched a new advertising campaign this week featuring several mature women in various stages of undress, talking openly and honestly about their own sexual desires.
‘Sex is just as much fun and sensual as it ever was,’ says one, caressing her own thigh as she writhes about on a bed.
‘It’s far less complicated: I know what I want,’ says another, undressing. ‘Too much?’ asks a third, gazing provocatively at the camera. ‘Well, it’s not about you. It’s about me.’
I must confess I fair spilled my glass of plonk when that one popped up on my telly. I just wasn’t expecting it. But I’m clearly hopelessly out of touch. Sex and the older woman is officially a phenomenon, and I for one am not quite sure how I feel about it.
AS AN older woman myself (52), I suppose I ought to be all in favour. After all, for years people like me have been going on about how society sees us as invisible, so I guess I should be grateful someone’s finally taking notice. I’m just not sure I want it packaged and hashtagged and served up to us in quite such a way.
In particular I find this notion that ‘it’s all about me’ hard to process. Hurrah for empowerment, but I suspect I am not alone among women my age in feeling that’s an absurd suggestion.
Truth is, it’s almost never about women. It’s about the family, our partners, our children, in many cases our parents and, of course, our employers. Indeed, many of us end up so far down our own to-do lists that the idea of seeking any form of sexual gratification, any pleasure other than simply getting through the day intact, of sinking into any arms other than the sweet embrace of sleep, becomes impossible.
By encouraging us so vehemently to embrace our sensuality, there is a risk that it becomes yet another chore to which we must attend, another hoop to jump through.
There is a fine line between empowering women and hectoring them, holding them to unreachable standards. or to put it another way, we don’t all want — or desire — to be Playboy centrefolds at the age of 74. And we shouldn’t be made to feel that is somehow a failing.
I don’t doubt the good intentions. But what if you’re not comfortable with your ageing body; what if you don’t look at yourself in the mirror and see a glorious goddess but a baggy old bag; what if you don’t find sex as pleasing as it once was?
Now your own lack of self-esteem is just something else to feel inadequate about, your lack of desire yet another example of how you’re letting the side down by being insufficiently thrilled at the thought of stuffing your crinkly cleavage into some underwiring or hauling your sagging derriere into a pair of fishnet tights.
Female desire is a complex, delicate subject, bound up in many factors. It can be a painful, difficult subject for many women, especially as they grow old. It is not as simple as a well-preserved celebrity, or a glossy advert. It cannot be distilled into a slogan or a hashtag.
In this age of over-sharing, there are some conversations that should remain private. And this is one of them.