I was going to start blogging about my trip to England, but I had this insight today while having my teeth cleaned that I want to explore. It’s about facelifts and all things to do with enhancing one’s image. It all started with a Facebook posting yesterday I flashed by. It went something like this . . . “face it ladies, if you had the money/you’ve reached that certain age/low self-esteem. etc. wouldn’t you have “work” done?”
Now, of course, this is a debate that’s been going on for ages and I’ve weighed in on many forums regarding the subject: mostly ambivalence (I mean, women I know and love have had work done, and I don’t fault them) but I also like the idea that you’ve earned your wrinkles, that you should wear them proudly. You notice I didn’t say I embrace the latter. Because along with those wrinkles comes invisibility and less favorable treatment. I’ve felt it. And even though I ascribe to the principle that the last third of life is about reflection and contemplation, I also rail against the loss of my tight skin. And then today, it just hit me. Simply put, it takes energy to focus on what’s no longer there, a focus that could be put to better use working on being more of the self I have, little suitcases under my eyes and all.