What Has Perimenopause Done to My Face?
The very real grief of suddenly not recognizing the woman in the mirror
Though it’s true that I haven’t felt good about my appearance since I was 12 years old, I’ve always found comfort in the sight of my own face.
During the worst years of my insecurities, when I expressed my frustrations and anxieties about my round face, thin lips, and large forehead, people often encouraged me to pursue plastic surgery.
“Why get upset about stuff you can fix?” they asked. Some of them had had nose jobs, others breast augmentation, and I knew plenty of older women who had had face lifts and tummy tucks. It all seemed as normal as going to get a facial.
Except I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even consider it. I remembered encountering each of these people after their surgeries and how uncomfortable I felt about their changed appearances. It was almost as if my nervous system was responding to a perceived potential threat. All these people had the same voices and many features that I recognized — yet their physical appearances had undergone at least one striking change. Perhaps the most ancient part of my brain didn’t know what to do with that information and responded with both moderate suspicion and grief.
