Hello, Fabulous Person!
There’s an old saying, “A smile is the best face-lift.” I would like to add that it’s also the cheapest face-lift. Faces fall, eventually, unless one holds back gravity with a little architectural preservation. (For the record, I think one should do whatever one pleases with their face.)
As a younger gal, I pouted my way through a series of modeling photos and head-shots. Lips slightly parted, eyes wide, head tilted slightly downwards.
Serious model and classical actress Madge.
Then something shifted.
That something was my face.
It’s funny because I don’t see it as much in a mirror as I do in a photo or video. Since I take photos of my face for my Instagram feed and make videos for my Facebook page, I spend time editing these photos and videos. When I’m smiling, I recognize ME, but when I’m not smiling it’s a bit of a shock.
Who the hell is THAT and what the hell has SHE done with my face?
I am fully aware that the subtle shifts in the terrain are going to continue, and that eventually exterior SHE will have taken full ownership of the exterior ME I recognize. For now, I’ll keep smiling and coming to terms with SHE, who is just ME in a new package. I’m still ME, after all, the consciousness residing within. I am not the exterior, and it does not define or limit me. I get all of this and I love ME.
I am willing to embrace SHE.
I’m not willing to age gracefully, which I believe is code for disappear. Some women are cool with this directive. There is power to be gained by becoming invisible and there are other things lost in the process. We should all do what makes us happy.
Dialing up the volume makes me happy.
In my aging DISgracefully agenda, I still wear makeup and have hot pink hair and enjoy wearing an eclectic array of thrifted fashions. On the physical level, I like to ice the cake, as it were.
Sure, someone left my cake out in the rain. I don’t quite know how to make it (up), and it took so long to bake it, and I just can’t use that recipe again.
I need new recipes, galdangy.
Those fabulous eye shadow tutorials on Insta and YouTube don’t look quite as fabulous on a sagging older eye. We don’t have a smooth canvas waiting to be shaded and highlighted into a work of 3-D Technicolor art, we have creases, folds, sags, wrinkles. Too much powder sinks into our pores, liquid liner doesn’t glide into a cat eye with ease, creamy shadows crease and fade. I’m navigating this shifting terrain, but it’s challenging.
The conventional wisdom is to wear less makeup as we age. I think it’s a matter of wearing different make up differently, and that’s only if you want to wear makeup. I recently disagreed vociferously with a friend who insisted that older women who wear colorful makeup on their eyes look like “hos.” Sheesh, lighten up Sister!
I like color, as evidenced by my hair and the colorful frocks I wear and the colorful decor in my home. I am not interested in fading away into shades of beige and khaki. When you have porcelain skin with blue undertones, browns, beiges, and khakis look muddy, dirty, and drab. If I want to decorate my lids with a rainbow of happy, other people’s opinions are not required.
As I enjoy make up, color, and doing what makes me happy, I intend to continue. I’m going to figure out this shifting terrain and embellish the ever living fuck out of it. This is why I want to join the #SephoraSquad, because I think we need more voices over 50 sharing their new recipes for icing their changing cake. And more than that, I think we need more voices over 50 encouraging people to age as they please and allow for the endlessly fascinating facets of growing BOLDER.
Let’s do this, people!
(IF you like this, you might like my book Fifty and Other F-Words. I’m just sayin’.)