Tina Fey once said, “The definition of ‘crazy’ in show business is a woman who keeps talking even when nobody wants to fuck her anymore.”

Some members of the Republican Party have gone a step further and made it clear that our value as women is directly tied to our ability to have and raise children. To them, the definition of crazy is a woman who continues to work, talk, live and breathe after she is past childbearing age.

If this is true, what happens to us afterward?

Well, I’ll tell you what happens: Things that were once dry are wet; things that were once wet are dry. Soft places have become bony; bony places have become bonier. Places where there was hair are bald, and places where there shouldn’t be hair are sprouting stray, strong, coarse, primal, flaky hairs. Places that were once solid are loose… I could go on forever, but you’ve probably stopped reading by now.

I’m starting to understand why straight men lose interest in their female counterparts after a certain age and opt for a younger model—we’re just not meant to be here. JD Vance isn’t the only misogynist. As it turns out, evolution isn’t a fan of it either. Once we’re past our childbearing years, we’re meant to be herded into a giant shoe-shaped bus like our cats and driven off a cliff, never to be seen or heard from again. But if you insist on sticking around, the amount of hormones, hair dye, therapy, exercise, glasses, elastic waist bands, supplements, sleep gummies, knee braces, orthotics, and compression stockings needed to keep you “visible,” “viable,” and “relevant” is absurd. Not to mention it’s expensive, time-consuming, and hasn’t been approved by the FDA yet. It’s like being held together with duct tape.

Did my toenail just fall off? We live in a youth-obsessed culture that is constantly selling us something to reverse the aging process, as if aging is somehow shameful. Sure, I’d rather not age, but what’s the alternative? Don’t make me get on that shoe bus! Isn’t getting old a gift? The gift that keeps giving me back pain and osteopenia.

Should I start hiking with a weight vest? If you don’t meet the requirements of a real housewife, where do you go? Andy Cohen isn’t calling me back.

How do I know when it’s time for a walk-in bathtub? My best days seem to be behind me, no matter how many retreats I attend, how many moons I shout at, or how many serums I apply. My face, my breasts, and my mood droop… That was until July 21, when young, vibrant, powerful, energetic, cheerful Vice President Kamala Harris, clad in a light blue pantsuit, was catapulted into the spotlight of American politics and I felt young again—like spring had sprung…like there were songs to sing…songs sung by Beyoncé and Megan Thee Stallion.

At 59, Kamala Harris is not only useful, relevant and viable, but she could be the next president of the United States! The president of this great and complicated nation. How can that be? Does she have anything left to offer? Thankfully, the answer is yes. A lot. Intelligence, experience, drive, tenacity and fearlessness. She is (almost) 60. Her ability to meet a decisive moment head-on has been inspiring to watch and has electrified women and their book clubs across the country. She is the greenhorn in this race! And her skin is so dewy.

Sure, the vice president may have the same physical issues I mentioned, but she doesn’t let them stop her, so why should I? Watching her fire up a huge crowd, firmly but calmly shut down hecklers, and ridicule Trump’s racism was the balm my aching muscles and creaking pelvic floor needed. Thank you, Kamala Harris, for showing us that no matter how old you are, a woman’s (and our country’s) best days are still ahead of us. I may no longer have perky breasts or lubricated joints, but I can still laugh, learn, cry, read, contribute, travel, love, lose, work, twerk, rest, and vote.

What an exciting time to be a middle-aged woman!

Gaby Allan is an Emmy-winning author of Veep, Scrubs and this piece. This is an old picture. It’s only been lightly retouched and her hair is no longer that color. She writes with Jen Crittenden, who advised her on this and corrected all the grammatical errors, so if you have trouble with the comma placement, blame her.