The mania for youth has reached new heights when glossy magazines allow no more than three wrinkles on the faces that grace their covers, and when selfie-editing apps — emphasizing everything from kawaii to perfect skin — are ubiquitous. Sure, there are frequent stories about how “30 is the new 20” or “50 is the new 30,” but rarely do we see women over a certain age — unretouched, unapologetic, not medically intervened upon — held up as desirable or admirable, or even held up at all. (Meanwhile, silver-haired men abound in movies and on TV in seats of power.)
I never thought about it. I couldn’t spend money on day-night-sunny-rainy creams, and I’ve never been to have a facial to a parlour. I had some other things to do(don’t know how important or not important things). And I think that helped a lot because the minute I started thinking about it then I felt everything’s wrong with my face, like these dark circles around my puffy eyes, tanned kin, chapped dark-lips and so on. Recently somebody said to me, ‘Do you ever think you’ll start doing something to your face?’ And I said, “Oh, yeah! But once I start, there’s going to be so many things I want to do! Forget it!” Every time I see my skin closely in the mirror, I see an upcoming insecurity attached with it. A insecurity that can affect my brain’s growth.
Ageing is the sum of many conflicting feelings and forces. Freedom from the erotic gaze can spark a sense of grief and loss. But it can also lead to a new-found sense of independence and radical possibility.
There is no right way to get older.