"Парк. Утро. Пробежка. Вдруг меня обгоняет девица. Любуюсь...

“Park. Morning. Jogging. Suddenly a girl overtakes me. I admire her round ass, I think:“ I’ll overtake, I'll see who she is! ”The girl turns out to be over 40. It rushes like a nimble goat. Restaurant. Evening. I read the menu. my “frame” includes female legs: tight jeans, heavy green “martenses.” What kind of fashionable beauty? I raise my eyes. The beauty is 50 years old. This never happened. After fifty, the eternal fate of women - cakes, grandchildren, knitting, quiet fading under the radio “Lighthouse.” And the word “grandmother” as a sentence. Sit, aunt, do not rock the boat. Your century has passed, zey through the window at the young ones, feed the pigeons, cry silently in their shopping bag. And then they suddenly jump out as they jump out! Cool. They're over fifty. They are athletic, funny, carbon monoxide. Their youth fell on the 1980s, then they breathed in laughing gas freedom and still fly and frolic. "They drank all night, walked all night until morning," as approximately Choi sang. Manicures and pedicures are a must. She will never miss a beautician and hairdresser. She is more cheerful, healthier and cooler than her young daughter . Cool dibs are a phenomenon of our time. They are satisfied with themselves. And if they are dissatisfied, they wink at themselves in the mirror and - sniff out the door. Go to the theater, to the party, to the sport! At fashion shows all the time - for those over 40. There are few young people, young people watch TV shows or hypnotize a computer. Cool grandmas everywhere in time. In their youth, they did not have so much fun, they are now catching up. They have even breathing, a warm heart, a mocking look. Behind them - tragedies, losses, misfortunes. Cheating husband, scandals with children, the first wrinkles. "Oh god no!" And now everything is sick, the children are very adults. Wrinkles? Well, do not go crazy with them. They do not have plastic surgery, they are not crazy. Although kremchiki morning and night - holy. And tint your hair - maybe become red? They famously dress up. And they don't look ridiculous. You can look ridiculous in your youth: stupid bag, cheap dress, unfashionable jeans. In youth, all this nonsense is important. You have a “contract” with society, you must fit into the canons, regulations, protocol. You are social plankton. When you are over fifty, the contract is broken. As the wise Isabella Rossellini said, “Age is freedom!” You do not owe anything to anyone, you live as you want, you are free. You don't care if the men stare at your ass, you spit out what boring friends say. Red curls, colorful dress, sneakers. “Oh, my little baby!” As Sukachev sang. And, damn it, in this freedom, in this laugh, in this loose gait, there is more sexuality than in that young full-breasted chick who sits in the restaurant and looks at the smartphone every minute: how is lipstick, how does the little eyelid lie, how do the eyelashes pop? The chick is afraid to move his head, the chick is all nerves, the chick is selling herself. She is on a “contract”. And next to them are three cool ladies, drinking wine and laughing. They have a fun evening ahead. They have a big interesting life ahead. Even with wrinkles. Girls, can I sit down with you, huh? I’d like a burnout, but with the young people it’s boring. "