This one’s for the ladies.
Full disclosure: At last check, I am not a woman. So I cannot claim to be an expert in the things women go through. But one thing I am sympathetic to is all of the messages bombarding you about your appearance. I mean guys have the pressure to maintain six-pack abs (I’m one sixth of the way there!), but it’s nothing compared to the onslaught you face on a daily basis.
Let’s take wrinkles, which are supposedly The Devil.
Apparently they are something to be avoided at all costs.
My wife has told me horror stories of going to parties at friends’ homes in which she was fearfully warned about such evils as forehead rows, crow’s feet and turkey necks. Honestly, I’m not sure how they get away with calling these get-togethers “parties.” Naturally, some sort of high-priced miracle balm is revealed that claims to have the power to prevent wrinkles, slow down the aging process, and stop global warming all in one fell swoop.
Now I don’t doubt the ability of these wonder creams to conceal wrinkles. I have seen the before and after photos, and as everyone knows, such photos don’t lie. I’m just not sure they truly prevent anything. Prolong the inevitable? Perhaps. Prevent? No.
No one ever died at the age of one hundred looking like a nineteen-year-old.
Meanwhile, the attempts to be the first woman who does have been disastrous. We’ve all seen the botox-injected, filler-filled, face-lift-fueled celebrities who have gone down this road with unfortunate results. Let’s face it: The sixty-year-old ladies trying to look thirty, don’t. They look creepy. They make the clown from the Stephen King classic It afraid of clowns.
And ultimately, they’re not fooling anyone. Instead, they are a sad reminder to everyone that they used to be young and are trying their damnedest to avoid getting old.
But you know what? The women who embrace who they are and own the season of life they are in are incredibly sexy.
Confidence is sexier than any cream. But confidence comes from within, not from a container or a syringe.
My wife has more so-called crow’s feet than most women I know who are her age. She also smiles way more than most women I know. And her smiles are actually real, not the permanent kind that comes from an overeager facelift.
Our bodies age. There’s nothing we can do to stop that. But the energetic childlike spirit that resides in each and every one of us? That never gets old.
For what it’s worth, please, please, PLEASE ignore the pitches from the people who would have you believe that you aren’t already beautiful.
That deep love for fun, the sparkle in your eye, the hint of mischief … that my dear, is true beauty.
I’ve somehow come out blessed, I do NOT even look my age – although I believe I do, I see those wrinkly things adorning my face in the mirror everyday…and say “are you sure…”
I’ve now have what is affectionately know as the ‘goldcard’ – you get it now when you turn 65 – I’ve had it just over 18 months, but still their disbelief that it’s not stolen.
Now, if you were with me, I could hand it to you – and the chick on card, certainly looks like me. You have to apply to have your mugshot on the card, I did that because I have no other recognised photo ID in my possession, and I needed to get “things” – I didn’t do it for any disbelievers but it’s “handy” :-)
I’ve had some wonderful conversations over the years, from people 20 years younger than me. Telling me things like “when you get to my age…” or “this ridiculous, you weren’t around then?”
When I was taking a degree in my late 50s, I remember telling the HOD that a certain lecturer really needed to retire, as he was getting “odd-as” surely he’s entitled to the pension, he certainly acted and looked darn old – to discover he was only 55!!!
and no, there hasn’t been “creams applied since the 1960s when I was abroad and it was the trend”