I remember when I was arrogant about aging. I said things like, “I’m proud of my age and I’m not going to pretend to be younger.” I scoffed at the women who spent hundreds of dollars on Botox, lifts and tucks.
That was before the lines on my face became so obvious. The other day I happened to glance into the mirror as I was bent over to blow dry my hair. Half my face was listing to one side. Sure it was easy to be high-minded about getting older when I was still lucky enough to look younger than my age. Suddenly I look my age. I hope I look my age and not any older.
I’ve found myself looking at women and wondering how old they are and comparing the number of lines on their face with mine. I actually Googled Elizabeth Palmer, the CBS correspondent in Damascus, to see if she was older or younger than me because her skin looked fabulous. She’s four years older than me! I consoled myself with the knowledge that she had a professional make-up person in her corner.
I realize it’s genetics. Some people have wonderful skin and some don’t. I’ve been lucky. I’ve had good skin. I still have good skin, it’s just not staying in place like it used to.
I’ve had two facials in my life. One a friend treated me to when I was about six months pregnant and feeling like a beached whale. The other was last week. I do believe it’s time I started doing something more for my skin that staying out of the sun. I see more facials in my future, lucky me!
I used to tell friends to embrace the lines on their face, it showed they’d lived a good life. Now I have to convince myself.