I was in my early 50s when I went to South Korea to visit my daughter who was teaching English at Yeugnam University in Taegu.
We were invited to the home of the head of her department and served soju, a drink guaranteed to make you believe you’re the smartest primate on the planet until you try to stand up. I focused all my concentration on walking a straight line to their car, trying not to embarrass myself or my daughter, and we were whisked away to a famous fish restaurant for dinner.
Blowfish is poisonous. It must be expertly prepared for consumption so as not to prove lethal. We were seated on cushions on the floor in a private room at a table that appeared to be far too large for the four of us until the food started coming. Our honorable host had ordered in advance. We had raw blowfish soup, blowfish tempura, and blowfish sashimi. That aquatic menace was also served to us steamed and deep-fried. But the ultimate test, the one I willed my stomach not to reject, was blowfish skin salad.
Of course, there were side dishes, too many to count, and every morsel on that table was offered to me. I’d done my homework on cultural dos and don’ts and knew better than to decline. Throughout a sleepless night, my stomach gurgled and churned but I survived. The next day we were scheduled for lunch with one of the students my daughter tutored.
The girl’s mother was 39 and stunning. Her skin had the flawless perfection of an airbrushed photograph. We were barely seated in the restaurant when she began a conversation about the importance of appearance. I was shocked to learn that she had already had multiple cosmetic surgeries. She turned to me and frowned. “You should, too,” she said.
I may have stammered a response, but my internal dialogue was far more memorable. Who? Me? People are surprised when I tell them my age. They think I’m ten years younger. I like the crinkles around my eyes and the laugh lines. Cosmetic surgery? Really? Never!
I have no clue what we had for lunch.
We learn early on how to smile at the appropriate times, regulate the emotions that want to contort our features, apply enhancements to accentuate the positive whether it be mascara to showcase exotic eyes, or lipstick.
As years passed, I didn’t give that episode much thought other than a story now and then to entertain friends.
But now, when I look in the mirror, the person who stares back is almost a stranger to me. After 60, changes happen fast. The body can be dressed, disguised, and hidden. But there seems to be no way to mentally prepare for the way time morphs a face.
In the remote farming community where I’ve come to retire, I’m surrounded by an elderly population. Creased and leathery from hard work in all kinds of weather, any exposed skin wears age like a badge of honor. No one would dream of going under the knife to chase youth. But what if I worked in a metropolitan area? What if I still had my interior design studio and high-profile clients? How tempted would I be to erase the ravages of time as much as possible?
I admire women who are still going strong in the workplace well into their 60s and 70s. Whatever they decide to do to retain their power and vitality in a social system where youth is deified, is a decision only they can make. I can’t say for certain what I would do if I were competing with women half my age for a position in the job market.
But, at some point, isn’t it time to relax, take off the mask, and embody who we have become? I’ve found immense freedom in being exactly who I am, saying what I mean, and doing what I want without worrying about what all that looks like. I’ve come to terms with the unglamorous transformations happening to my body, and I’ve (somewhat grudgingly) accepted the time-worn face in my mirror.
Who do you see when you look in the mirror? Have you come to accept the wrinkles and lines? Or have you decided to go the plastic surgery route? Is there wisdom in either choice?
Tags Getting Older
I see my mom when I look in the mirror. It makes me proud. I’m now 68 and I’ve embraced my silver hair, and my minor aches and pains, that come with aging. I still have my smile, my sense of humor and my love of laughter. Tell me a good joke, and I laugh with the sounds of youth!
A smile, robust, genuine laughter, proud of being your mother’s daughter as you see her in your face, is such a healthy response to the aches and pains that accompany the passing years. Lovely! Than you
Im 78 and have struggled with the aging bit..its pride but the biggest issue is i dont want my daughters thinking “mom is looking so old now”..i was caretaker for my mom and watched and absorbed the whole going down to dying and now im circling that drain…in my mind i have to keep the image of a strong mama..to appear weak and old to my daughters is horrifying..my dear God and i are working on this…peace to all of us old broads…
Dear Pat, oh my goodness, I could have written the same things. Bless you, and peace to all of us old broads!!
I too worry about how I look to my daughter and granddaughters. I can tolerate the reactions of everyone else.
Oh my goodness Pat!!! Circling the drain! I can’t get that out of my mind. I have three daughters and I have those same thoughts. I think it goes with the territory and you and I both know that at some point, probably now, they’re thinking it. So, yes…peace. Somehow, we have to accept age in all of its frustrating and pride-crushing reality. But it’s nice to know we’re not alone. Our Sixty and Me sisters are right there with us!
I am 71. Until my husband’s last illness and eventual death my looks still had a youthful appearance which didn’t give away my true age. After his passing especially, my face seems to be ravaged by the grief and loneliness of the last 5 months. I see glimpses of the old me and I hope that time will be kind as I find my way through to peaceful acknowledgement of this new reality.
Diane, I am there with you. My husband passed away October , 2022 after a 2 year cancer fight. I too feel the last couple of years have aged me, especially my face, gravity is winning. I am an active 72 year old ..I keep moving. I used to find fault with myself in my earlier years, but looking at old photos, I think I looked pretty good on reflection. I did have an eyelid lift and that made a big difference. I look good in clothes! Unfortunately I live in a hot summer climate, but will not wear shorts etc! I am a bit vain I suppose, but accepting who I am now ..not the same as I used to be, but hoping eventually like you to find a new peace in my life. Hugs x. PS here is a link to something a friend in the UK sent me ….ive joined and see hope …https://www.karensutton.co.uk. I live in the US.
My heart hurts to read this. I hope you find people who uplift you and help you through this time of mourning.
I’m still in the mourning stage…mourning my youth and beauty such as it was. I pray every day to become more accepting of the person and face in the mirror.
Letting go of that part of you that mourns is essential to living your life. As we age, we don’t have the luxury of wasting precious time wallowing. Begin to imagine what is possible in your present and future rather than dwelling on the irretrievable past.
I am 75 and have been told I look much younger. But I see it and at times think about tightening the checks, smoothing the neck. Then I think I rather travel with my money and enjoy the world. I am healthy, strong, and look good. That’s enough. As I age is part of living. I am blessed.
Yes! Marie! Travel while you can! You ARE blessed!
I never ever thought when I was younger and working that I would one day go out of the house without doing my hair, blow dry and hot rollers and hairspray. But today, I wouldn’t think of going out of the house looking like I just got out of the hairdresser’s chair! It is so freeing to accept our looks as they are and age appropriate. As long as I am clean with decent clothes on, that is all that matters to me now and hopefully everyone who I encounter will accept me for me and see beyond my outer appearance. Great article!
Amen, sister!!!!!
I hear you, Joyce. I’m down to a little pencil to make sure I still have eyebrows. Otherwise, it’s bare bones. It makes me wonder who I was trying so hard to impress.
That’s really nice that you can do that. I put on lipstick to take out the garbage, lol.