Saturday morning I spent two hours researching wrinkle serum. Yes, serum, not cream, because at the ripe old age of just over 45, the skin on my face that once was perfect, is now taunting me with oiliness.
As usual, upon waking, I brushed my teeth and washed my face, applying a store-brand moisturizer before I padded down the stairs on my freshly pedicured tootsies, to fill up on coffee. It was time to research anti-aging serums. I came across the Clinique Canada site which offered a skin assessment.
I flipped the camera on my phone so I could see a reflection of my freshly scrubbed face. Gee-Sus!!! When the hell did I finish growing grandma’s jowls on my face??? The little scanner slid across my reflection, and I was horrified at how much I looked like a sadder version of Cathy Bates in Misery.
A wise woman once told me that at a certain age, I would become invisible. After my little analysis, I was almost grateful to slide under the radar as someone unworthy of notice.
Invisible; I was shocked when it happened. Not because I didn’t believe it, but because I had always been able to stand out in a crowd. I’ve never considered myself a beauty, but perhaps a natural beauty, with an easy laugh, and ability to gatsby-socialize and bring a smile to almost anyone’s face in any circumstance. I was a sure thing at a party, and in the sack. I was cute. I was confident. I was under 40.
You have an easy smile…
You have beautiful skin. ..
Is that your natural eye colour or are those contacts?…
These were an assortment of daily compliments that were gifted to me during the course of my day-to-day interactions. Eventually these compliments have dwindled to become merely a distant memory.
That’s how it happened. Not all of a sudden, but gradually. It was like putting on your favourite jeans one day, and not being able to button them up. I’d be lying if I told you it didn’t rock me. It was like trying to keep my balance during an earthquake. It didn’t matter what I tried to cling to in my repetoire of feel-good-physical-traits, nothing felt stable.
The older women were correct; the crepe-skinned-chain-smoking-60-something-one-time-beach-bunny who advised me to make my memories while I was young, my mumster who first presented the invisibility theory, and my granola-crunching senior advisors who cheered on my loose-morals and stiletto heeled antics from the closed-door sidelines of their lonely Friday nights.
Wisely, I did indulge in all of the sensual pleasures of youth, and I’m still a bit of a lush when it comes to wine,
women and song. I am also however more aware of the pressure that we face as women to never age (on the outside).
Unless you’ve made a career of your beauty, or were privileged enough to have role models who convinced you to establish self-care habits at an early age, you likely have found yourself staring back at one hell of a woman whom you fear is trapped, forever under jowls and deep wtf wrinkles between her brows.
Today I smiled when a friend of mine who just rounded the corner on 40 commented on the not-so-easy-to-transform, changes in her body. This, the same person who made me cry when she told me I looked old, just as I was feeling old for the very first time in my life. I told her I’d just been out buying skin care products….and an absurd amount of red wine…
I shared with her some of the things I have found that bring a smile to my over-forty-face. They help to make me glow on the outside the same way I still feel on the inside;
4. Revlon Super Lustrous in Love That Pink
This comes in new, white packaging now.