I have a lot of experience with body acceptance but, it turns out, not so much with age acceptance. I almost titled this post, in all caps, AGE ACCEPTANCE: PLEASE HELP ME.
In approximately a month, I’ll be turning 35. I’ve been noticing more gray hairs, a few wrinkles on my face. 35 is a big age for women because our eggs officially become geriatric, and so that’s happening too. And it’s freaking me out, you guys. I have fallen for all of those “you must look younger!” ads and actually purchased something called anti-aging serum that is probably not even real. And yet there’s no denying that next month, I will officially be one year closer to death. And it’s pretty sobering.
You see, the thing with “growing old gracefully” is that there is the whole mortality thing to consider, and it’s not some societal pressure, it’s an actual thing. It’s a thing that has preoccupied human beings (particularly poets) from time immemorial. So I’m not freaking out about nothing, exactly. But I still feel that I’m overreacting just a tad. There’s nothing I can do about it, after all, other than to live life to the fullest. And freaking out about wrinkles and gray hairs is just vanity, isn’t it?
So on the one hand, I’m turning to you for advice: how do I grow older gracefully? I already know that I should be more Helen Mirren than Melanie Griffith, and I won’t be injecting butt fat into my lips anytime soon. But coloring my hair seems harmless, wearing sunscreen seems like a wise idea. Where does one draw the line in the quest to extend one’s youth? How old are you, and how you feel about it? Do you accept your age, or do you rage, rage against the dying of the light?
And on the other hand, I’ve decided my theme for Year 35 is going to be carpe diem, and to that end, I’m going to try and cross 35 items off my lifelong to-do list. Carpe diem, man, it’s a classic. I mean come on, I don’t have that poetry degree for nothing!
Posted by mo pie