LIFE RIGHT NOW â—½ YOU
This is 53ish.
No filters.
No special lighting or camera angles.
No Botox, fillers, facials, or any other fancy spa treatments I don’t even know I need “at my age.”
Just me standing outside wearing an old tee shirt and whatever lotions, creams, and makeup products that can be found on the shelves of Walmart or Target. (Except for the lipstick – because when a girl finds the right lipstick, she’ll pay a little extra)
Why do I share this? Not to fish for compliments or suggest I look a certain way – I could fill eighteen pages FRONT AND BACK (#Friendsreference) with the flaws I see. Wrinkles, lines, dark spots, and freckles that weren’t there before. I share this because I see too many women ten, even twenty years younger, agonizing over their changing faces. Beautiful women getting injections and surgeries to hide a lifetime of laughter. I share this because I noticed that lately when I post OOTD (outfit of the day) pictures I choose to
share the photos that hide my face or they’re distant enough that somebody trying to zoom in won’t spot the flaws. And I share this because I find myself comparing my lined face to the medically altered faces and wondering if I should make an appointment.
Isn’t that sad?
Sad that we live in a world that makes us feel “less than” when the candles on our cake become more than one box can hold. Sad that we feel this pressure to hold on to a flawless face.
So, let’s stop it. Let’s stop letting social media dictate how we feel. Let’s embrace our Shar Pei era. And while we’re at it, let’s stop letting a number determine how we treat each other. Let’s stop fighting with each other - stop pitting generation this against generation that. God put us on this earth at the exact same time for a reason. We’re in this together. The old and the young. Let’s all stop fighting the fact we’re going to get older and our faces are going to change.
Because aging is a privilege.
Most of the time we enjoy that privilege by cashing in on AARP discounts and scrambling for tickets to our favorite musician’s final farewell tour. But, oh, the agony of the mean-spirited comments so carelessly launched at those of us lucky enough to reach the top of the proverbial hill by those still strutting around in the valley of youth. I was always taught to respect and revere those who came before me and learn from their experiences. In fact, most of the new friends I’ve met in the past year have lived several decades longer than me and they are the most remarkable, talented, and hilarious group of women I’ve ever spent time with. And the wisdom they possess is unmatched.
But we’re considered over the hill. Boomers. Gen X. Lately even the elder millennials have begun facing the wrath of Instagram influencer outfit makeover videos created by the younger generation. While historically makeovers meant a desire to help someone improve in some way, these seem to have an edge. An intent to embarrass or humiliate. And the comment section? Vicious.
Social media vitriol can be hard to maneuver at any age. For us aging adults, we wonder when it became okay, celebrated even, to throw venom at another human simply because that person was born a decade or three before them (it’s not okay, by the way). And why do so many born after the nineteen hundreds seem resistant, terrified even, of the reality that one day they too will receive an invitation to join our privileged group? What exactly are they afraid of? Maybe they need us to show them getting older isn’t scary at all. Actually, it’s pretty amazing.
Society might try to convince us otherwise, but this aging thing? It’s beautiful.