At what point did you, as a woman, start worrying about aging? About wrinkles and fine lines and crow’s feet?
I know that shit was ingrained in me since I was a kid. I’ve never been able to flip through a magazine without seeing some kind of ad for rejuvenation lotions and potions and where the model (100% of the time a woman) hasn’t been airbrushed within an inch of her life. I turn on the TV and see near 30 year olds playing teenagers, and 40 year olds playing grandmothers.
To make matters worse, we’re also taught to grow up as fast as possible so that it’s not as creepy 🙄 when we’re sexualized from a young age. Be “mature”, wear makeup, dress like an adult. The hypocrisy is so thick you can spread it with a knife.
Being young is good until it’s not. And being old is a death sentence.
This past year I’ve been more aware of the new lines on my face. Not many, but enough that I can see I’m aging. I have smile lines and eye crinkles. My face is settling into a more adult shape. For a while it bothered me. I didn’t like these new developments and what they meant for me as a woman. Am I less attractive now? Am I “past my prime”, so to speak?
And then I realized that those lines invoke memories. I can see drinks with friends, and embarrassment from awkward dates, and overwhelming love from visits with my niece. I see LIFE in every single little wrinkle. Why would I want to get rid of that?
Aging is not a sin. Being young is not it’s all cracked up to be. Live in your age, from 5 to 105, and E M B R A C E it. Don’t miss out on the fun things in life because you were trying to be something you’re not.