Leave Me to Wrinkle in Peace
On women and aging
As I edge closer to forty, I can’t help but notice my wrinkles. These tiny little lines I used to think of as cute laughing lines are becoming more permanent. It’s the damn video calls I’m on all day. My face stares back at me from the screen and it is impossible to ignore the lines any longer.
I see-saw between accepting them — thinking they’re a reminder of a full life, laughs, tears, and chilling in the sun with friends — and feeling less wholesome about them. I question myself, am I letting go? I probably should do something about them, maybe it’s time for botox. Letting go, it’s such a weird term. How and when did growing older become negligence.
What puzzles me though is my husband, brother, and most of my male friends, they’re just not as occupied with their wrinkles. I don’t hear them asking about skincare routines or new treatments? I’m pretty sure they’re getting older too, it’s not just a female thing.
Maybe it’s not botox that I need but a bit of male privilege. I’d pay for that! It’s OK for them to get older and wrinkly, it’s even seen as a sign of growing wiser. They waste no time asking “Am I letting go?”, save their money and energy to do things they actually like, not invest it in over-priced haircuts and makeup to keep up with society’s expectations.
Come to think of it, yes it’s actually a male privilege that I want, not botox. But in the absence of that, maybe I should change my question from ‘Am I letting go?’ to ‘What would a man do?’ and then do just that!
