I was sitting in an outdoor cafe in the center of town, sipping an iced coffee and enjoying the breeze which was cool and dry. The change of air from the stifling temperatures of the last few weeks was refreshing and energizing, and hinted that autumn was drawing closer.

It was a lovely evening for people-watching. Families stopped at the ice cream shoppe, young faces sported smiles and milky-white moustaches dotted with colored sprinkles as they skipped by, leaving a Hansel and Gretel trail from the cone melting in their hands. Older couples strolled along, holding hands as they did when they were young and first in love, now symbolic of the union of their lives. As I viewed strangers in this casual way, I realized something very important about people. The majority of people are not attractive in the way Hollywood and TV make us think we must be to be accepted. But the majority of people were comfortable in their skin.

I started to think of my family and friends, people I know and love well. I thought of all the reasons they matter to me and what I like best about them and their appearance was not in the top ten for any of them. Then I thought, if I saw them as strangers walking down the street, my assessment of them would be based solely on appearance, and I pondered how that assessment might differ greatly from the reality of the person. Here I was, coolly sizing up people based on their hairstyle and their clothing, while knowing nothing of them, not knowing what made someone out there love them.

I was very glad to have come to the conclusion that the most important thing we can wear is our confidence. It’s a gift to walk down the street and say “Here I am, accept me as I am, it’s all good”. I was very glad to decide that judging a book by its cover could be very misleading.

Because despite my casual air of cool confidence as I surveyed each stranger and summed them up, it is very possible they walked away with an odd impression of me, for I realized I had been sitting there the whole time wearing two different shoes, one white and one black. Immediately any superior thoughts I had of my image disintegrated into laughter. It’s something my friends would expect of me, and it was a good feeling to know that there are people who know me that well.

The reality is that most of us will never achieve the look that TV and films and fashion magazines tell us is the ideal. The point of Fifty-Something Women is not to tell us how to become something we are not, but how to be all that we are, how to be our best and achieve success and happiness in acknowledging that we have unique gifts that enrich the lives of those around us.

Here’s looking at you, kid!