A Cup of Coffee

Obsolete

My classmates were making fun of one of the students. She is an older lady, like me, but single, childless, slightly plump and always dressed in a very severe manner. In fact, she is probably younger than me, but the way she dresses turn her into an older woman. She is also very eager to please, and when she gets excited (and that seems to happen quite often, for any reason), she doesn't seem to stop talking, and she goes louder, louder, and more and more high pitched. A cruel classmate described her problem as a consequence of the lack of contact with males of the human kind. "Hey", I warned my classmate jokingly, "I am probably as old as she is, I am single and you wouldn't dare to say a thing like that to me".

He looked embarrassed for a moment and then answered. "Oh, you are not obsolete yet".

Praise the Lord. I am not obsolete yet. This must be good news. And in a twisted way, this was meant as a compliment. But it got me thinking (always a dangerous exercise) on programmed obsolescence. I believe the concept is familiar to most of us in a way or another. It means things are produced with a determined lifetime that will force the owner to replace it in a while. For instance, computers. We know when we get one these days that will be forced to update it in two or three years, otherwise, we won't be able to run new programs or do lots of stuff. There will be new models out this year, and the next. Other stuff simply break after a while. Sometimes, it is more expensive to change a battery than to buy a new one. And we go out and buy things, which is exactly what the capitalist system expects of each of us. If things lasted forever, we wouldn't need the urge to buy new ones. If it wasn't a sign of prosperity to flash a new car every year (or so), they would stay in the factories and economy would go to a stand still.

I am not going into Economics, you can breathe in relief. I realize that here, in Latin America, south of the border, we have a programmed obsolescence policy on women. It goes like that: we are a young country, with a fantastic population growth. There is a superavit on young women. Our very Latino culture turned the 40s and older set into obsolete models. I don't know how this works very well for men -- I believe that somewhere along the road they also become obsolete. As a woman, I can only talk about my side of the story. We, the forty-ish and so, become obsolete very fast. Obsolete women are invisible. They are supposed to stick with other obsolete women, or be wise and motherly to younger women. They are supposed to become deep and well informed, read the latest book release first, go to that European movie when it opens, join discussion groups on philosophy, have yoga classes, meditate, hug trees. They walk around carrying "Women who run with wolves" and discussing the female archetypes.

Does that sound boring? Well, most of it bores me to tears. This is what obsolete women are supposed to do and I am on my road to obsolescence. I should say I was right there already, but I lost weight. Now isn't that stupid? Isn't the Brazilian way of thinking totally mean? With 25 pounds less, I became a vintage car which doesn't shame whomever is driving it. Does it sound cruel? It is cruel, but true. I am absolutely the same person I was three years ago, but now I have had guys asking for my phone number and some well educated flirtation. Obsolete women don't flirt. If they do, they become object of jokes, like my classmate, who obviously has a crush on the classmate that defined her problem. 

So I don't know if I should get flattered or simply irritated because these days I am getting some attention. The feminist in me wants to strangle all these chauvinist pigs. But the vain little Barbie that resides hidden in my soul has second thoughts.  Well, it is not these particular guys' fault, is it? This is a cultural trait. I choose to be flattered. 

posted by Livia de Almeida @ 7:21 PM