If forty is the new thirty, fifty the new forty, sixty the new fifty and so on – when do you ever get a chance to relax? To age gracefully with peace and dignity?
If the above are rallying cries for holding on to one’s youthful spirit and enthusiasm - great. But if they’re merely in regard to appearance? Then I find them oppressive, time consuming and ridiculous.
I’ve decided to embrace aging. Not to the extent of finding each wrinkle endearing and letting everyone know its origin (“…and this one was created when I accidently dropped my second son over a cliff…”) but in the sense of withdrawing from the battle, the laying down of weapons. Which isn’t particularly difficult to do since I’ve never been fully engaged in the battle. My only weapon has been hair dye.* However, I’ve always been very aware of that not-so-subtle pressure to RETAIN YOUR YOUTHFUL LOOKS. I’ve finally had enough. I’M NOT LISTENING ANYMORE.
I don’t count basic moisturizer a weapon, I don’t wear make-up (skin sensitivity) and I’ve never had “work” done. Truly. Unless you count wart removal cosmetic surgery. Which I don’t and nor should you. A wart on the bottom of your foot really, really hurts – but I digress…
As for those five lbs. that keep coming and going? Well, they’re welcome to stay. I’m not fighting them any more. Those determined little buggers can take over the areas they’ve been coveting for years – my belly and hips. I don’t care. Mi casa es su casa.
If my sisters and certain friends are reading this, I promise I will not let myself go completely. I will maintain certain standards and you’ll still be okay being seen with me in public. I just might look like your mother rather than a contemporary. And I’ll be wearing an always-in-fashion, ageless, contented and happy smile.
an unretouched photo depicting a DIY wrinkle remover gesture by a crazed woman
*Confession – a bit of vanity remains - I think I’ll give up the hair dye next summer – have my head shorn - retreat to the cottage and see what appears…