Like a Fine Wine
Yesterday when I pulled into my driveway, I put the car in Park and paused for a moment to look in the mirror. I smiled and noticed the "fine lines and wrinkles" that rushed into places formerly barred by the tight, dewy skin of my youth.
I flipped up the mirror. As I walked to the mailbox I felt very content with my new, older face, and with the entire process of aging. As it's the cusp of my 35th birthday, and because this issue comes up with the women I know and love, I felt that it was important enough to be blogged. (Inside joke for all you bloggers out there!)
My general feeling on aging is this: I like it! It's interesting, and I'm curious to see what happens next. Though I haven't quite made peace with dying, if I live out a normal life span I have a loooooong time to accept the idea. By the way, when I say "aging" I mean it more in terms of "progressing through the years," and not as "I'm old and getting older."
I've always chafed at the "never ask a lady her age" mindset, and I abhor it when women make a big deal about admitting their age whether they are 30 or 60 or 90. All this ridiculous deceit manages to do is imbed the idea that a woman can't and shouldn't be able to make peace with aging and, once she has passed some mythical age that embodies youth and beauty, currently about 19 in our culture, she creases and dries like an old, worthless piece of paper. And whoa to the woman who wasn't "pretty" to begin with! She's . . . she's . . . hardly worth talking about, huh?
Later that same evening, I worked out with the help of an exercise video. While rewinding and otherwise getting the video where I wanted it, I caught glimpses of a bunch of 18-year olds competing for the chance to get their no-hipped, big-boobed bodies splayed out in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. Afterwards, I sat down and flipped through a fashion magazine that I got for free at the local library. Amidst all of this "celebration" of youth, I came across a little essay by Nigella Lawson, celebrity chef. I say "celebration" because, well, was it? Those girls on the TV, who were lovely, were crying their eyes out when they didn't get picked to go to some island by a group of people who pick out their every "flaw" for an audience of millions, or for a chance to starve themselves to be a nameless (because most of them are) coat hanger for some overpriced and generally ridiculous designer clothes. Yes, the girls/women in fashion magazines are still really, really thin, despite all of our progress, and people make careers out of picking them apart and making them feel socially worthless if they have a zit. Celebration, indeed. More like mass hazing.
Anyway, Nigella's article was entitled "Celebrate Your Age!" wherein Nigella "reveals why she would never trade her 40s for her 20s." It's pretty good, and amazingly timely, and I like to think I resemble Nigella ever so slightly! Ha. I particularly liked this portion:
When you're young, the only judgments that seem to hold any weight are other people's. You worry what people are thinking about you, how they perceive you. Now I just don't have the time--and certainly not the inclination--for that kind of obsessive self-absorption. There's too much life going on to waste it worrying about dress size and approval.
It's refreshing to read, even though it was placed in the middle of a magazine that pays its words no heed. I would like to say that being self-assured doesn't mean that you give up the desire to look attractive, but it dampens the need to while changing the definition of attractive. I still want to look attractive and am working to get back into fighting shape. The difference is that I'm doing it to be healthier and to be more comfortable in my own skin. I've been relatively thin and athletic my entire adult life until this point, and I'm not about to let lingering bad habits rob me of my health or my ability to do what I love, like going running, or to unselfconsciously revel about, you know, with my husband.
But if I no longer turn heads, or feel confident in my ability to seduce any man that I might want to seduce (if I was single, ya'll), I really don't care! And do you know how good that feels? If I had to choose right now to live, mentally and physically, as I am, unhealthy pounds and all, or live as I was at a lithe, firm 25, I would choose now, hands down, no doubt. If in one decade I can reap a bumper crop of positive mental growth, what can I do in another decade, starting as I am at this better place?
The mental payoffs of maturing far exceed the loss of culturally-imposed, superficial "beauty" and "youth." Nothing is more attractive than enjoying yourself and your life. So Happy Birthday!
I flipped up the mirror. As I walked to the mailbox I felt very content with my new, older face, and with the entire process of aging. As it's the cusp of my 35th birthday, and because this issue comes up with the women I know and love, I felt that it was important enough to be blogged. (Inside joke for all you bloggers out there!)
My general feeling on aging is this: I like it! It's interesting, and I'm curious to see what happens next. Though I haven't quite made peace with dying, if I live out a normal life span I have a loooooong time to accept the idea. By the way, when I say "aging" I mean it more in terms of "progressing through the years," and not as "I'm old and getting older."
I've always chafed at the "never ask a lady her age" mindset, and I abhor it when women make a big deal about admitting their age whether they are 30 or 60 or 90. All this ridiculous deceit manages to do is imbed the idea that a woman can't and shouldn't be able to make peace with aging and, once she has passed some mythical age that embodies youth and beauty, currently about 19 in our culture, she creases and dries like an old, worthless piece of paper. And whoa to the woman who wasn't "pretty" to begin with! She's . . . she's . . . hardly worth talking about, huh?
Later that same evening, I worked out with the help of an exercise video. While rewinding and otherwise getting the video where I wanted it, I caught glimpses of a bunch of 18-year olds competing for the chance to get their no-hipped, big-boobed bodies splayed out in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. Afterwards, I sat down and flipped through a fashion magazine that I got for free at the local library. Amidst all of this "celebration" of youth, I came across a little essay by Nigella Lawson, celebrity chef. I say "celebration" because, well, was it? Those girls on the TV, who were lovely, were crying their eyes out when they didn't get picked to go to some island by a group of people who pick out their every "flaw" for an audience of millions, or for a chance to starve themselves to be a nameless (because most of them are) coat hanger for some overpriced and generally ridiculous designer clothes. Yes, the girls/women in fashion magazines are still really, really thin, despite all of our progress, and people make careers out of picking them apart and making them feel socially worthless if they have a zit. Celebration, indeed. More like mass hazing.
Anyway, Nigella's article was entitled "Celebrate Your Age!" wherein Nigella "reveals why she would never trade her 40s for her 20s." It's pretty good, and amazingly timely, and I like to think I resemble Nigella ever so slightly! Ha. I particularly liked this portion:
When you're young, the only judgments that seem to hold any weight are other people's. You worry what people are thinking about you, how they perceive you. Now I just don't have the time--and certainly not the inclination--for that kind of obsessive self-absorption. There's too much life going on to waste it worrying about dress size and approval.
It's refreshing to read, even though it was placed in the middle of a magazine that pays its words no heed. I would like to say that being self-assured doesn't mean that you give up the desire to look attractive, but it dampens the need to while changing the definition of attractive. I still want to look attractive and am working to get back into fighting shape. The difference is that I'm doing it to be healthier and to be more comfortable in my own skin. I've been relatively thin and athletic my entire adult life until this point, and I'm not about to let lingering bad habits rob me of my health or my ability to do what I love, like going running, or to unselfconsciously revel about, you know, with my husband.
But if I no longer turn heads, or feel confident in my ability to seduce any man that I might want to seduce (if I was single, ya'll), I really don't care! And do you know how good that feels? If I had to choose right now to live, mentally and physically, as I am, unhealthy pounds and all, or live as I was at a lithe, firm 25, I would choose now, hands down, no doubt. If in one decade I can reap a bumper crop of positive mental growth, what can I do in another decade, starting as I am at this better place?
The mental payoffs of maturing far exceed the loss of culturally-imposed, superficial "beauty" and "youth." Nothing is more attractive than enjoying yourself and your life. So Happy Birthday!
posted by lulu | 8:20 AM
4 Comments:
That's all very admirable, my dear, but I wonder . . . would you still feel so fabulous if you didn't have that gorgeous, shiny, fantastic head of raven hair that is the envy of every Breck girl?
So true! My raven locks are the one thing separating me from the depths of crippling despair!
Of course, the “raven” part is from a bottle, and but coarsely resembles the ebony waves of my maidenhood. I don’t know where the shine comes from. I suspect, however, that it’s not the shine of bubbling, irrepressible youth, meant to beckon and lure men to cast their seed upon my farm fresh eggs, but, rather, the sheen that one notices with dismay on an old coat—right before the withered threads snap and break.
How nice to hear. I agree with your annoyance/anger at women who won't admit or are afraid to admit their age. Just beause you don't admit it doesn't mean you're younger than you are, do you get that?
The more that you look back on the past and which you could go back there, the more you will miss in the present. I am glad to see that you, Lulu, are not one of those people. Of course, I never thought you would be. Happy Birthday beautiful.
Right on, babe, and up the revolution! Live your life and not some advertised projection designed to make you feel unworthy.
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