At the age of 43, one might assume I would be a prime target for the anti-aging market, yet I have learned to navigate its often misleading claims. Admittedly, during my early 30s, I fell for some of these traps. (Hello, fancy skincare products!) However, I have never opted for any cosmetic procedures and have instead cultivated a natural beauty regimen that I take pride in.
My skincare routine involves carefully applying argan oil serum to my forehead and cheeks twice daily. I create my own body oil using a blend of rosehip, avocado, and jojoba oils, infused with a unique mix of essential oils. Additionally, I take the time to craft my own raw honey masks, treating my skin with the utmost care.
Instead of resorting to botulinum toxin injections, I rely on Frownies, a beauty secret I inherited from my great-aunt, who maintained her glowing complexion well into her 80s. She taught me about more than just beauty techniques; she also imparted wisdom about the societal pressures that often accompany our appearance.
My grandmother, a woman of grace and elegance, had a makeup area adorned with crystal bottles and antique trays. I vividly recall one instance when she, in front of a large mirror, asked me if she needed a facelift. At only 10 years old, I was confused but assured her that she was beautiful, albeit a bit eccentric.
The Illusion of Youth
In her younger years, my grandmother was often mistaken for an actress, a role she secretly wished to embrace. By the time she reached 50, she began to “reverse” her age, claiming to be a year younger with each passing birthday. This became our family joke, but I could sense the pressure it placed on her.
Growing up, she affectionately referred to my hands as “paws,” a term that reflected our family’s love for animals. My hands were delicate and fair, but as a freelance writer and a mother without a dishwasher, they have endured significant wear and tear. Spending countless hours at outdoor cafés, typing away, I have recently learned that my hands also require sun protection.
As I work, I cannot help but notice the changes in my hands. Even before they began to show signs of aging, I felt out of place if I didn’t keep up with manicures. During tight deadlines, I would rush to the salon to avoid the embarrassment of chipped polish and uneven cuticles.
A Blend of Vanity and Feminism
People often mistake me for being in my early 30s, which is a compliment that brings me joy but also prompts a sense of discomfort. Having studied Women’s Studies and authored a book titled Coping With the Beauty Myth: A Guide for Real Girls, I remind myself of the societal pressures surrounding beauty. I believe in embracing the truth of my age rather than hiding it; I take pride in announcing, “No, I really am 43!” and relish the surprise it elicits.
However, the once delicate “paws” I cherished in childhood now reveal my true age. Someone once advised me to hide my hands during dates to obscure the wrinkles. Yet, in honor of my grandmother and mother, both of whom embody a more balanced approach to beauty, I choose to display my hands proudly, accepting their imperfections.
Nevertheless, I will continue to utilize Frownies to maintain my skin’s appearance for as long as I can.
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Summary
As I navigate the complexities of aging, I embrace my natural beauty regimen and the wisdom passed down through generations. While societal pressures to maintain youth persist, I find empowerment in being truthful about my age and celebrating the unique journey that comes with it.