Wrinkles and blotches and bits that sag. Shadows and creases and crepe.
My face is changing and I'm faking being fine with it. Maybe you are, too.
I'm sure that wasn't there yesterday, the mirror says, as I lean into her, minus my bifocal contact lenses with their comforting blur. Poking at a crevice. Holding up an eyelid. Pulling back my hairline. Reaching for a tweezer, a potion, a cover-all.
Sometimes it takes all the will in the world not to want to scrape it off.
I know it doesn't matter. I know that how we look is the least interesting thing about us.
And yet.
On those days, I just want to STOP IT. Stop the change, stop the slide, stop the fold, stop the inevitable.
Freeze it in time. Sand it, smoothe it, lift it, fill it.
Maybe I will.
Maybe if I did that, I wouldn't notice, anymore, that I am ageing. Maybe fewer lines would distract me from my undulating hormones, that little grunt as I stand, the advancing migraine, the birthday numbers counting up to nowhere, the days I get to spend with my people counting down.
But also, if I do that, try to trick the mirror, another trap yawns opens.
Don't you dare look like you're trying too hard. So sad. So desperate. What have you done to your face?
So many opinions, so much criticism, so much wasted energy on this little patch of fleshy real estate.
I am part of that noise. Women's faces are a regular topic of discussion on Mamamia Out Loud, the podcast I co-host five times a week. And now on MID, the podcast for Gen X women. I have resisted, for 15 episodes, talking to my smart grown-up guests about their faces because I know it doesn't matter. I know it's the least interesting thing about us. And yet. Today I do, with the smart (and yes, beautiful) Ali Daddo.
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