Another great Cary Tennis column over at Salon today. For some reason I found the subject especially fascinating. I’ve never been one to obsess over my looks or my age, but I’m celebrating a birthday next week and will officially be closer to 40 than I am to 30.
What really sucks, especially for women, is that no matter how many times age and beauty throw down and duke it out, age always comes out on top. No matter how many plastic surgeries we go through, we never really succeed at looking younger, we just succeed at looking like we tried to look younger. Sometimes we get a little carried away with the Botox and the face lifts and wind up scaring small children in supermarkets. Seriously, have you seen Pricislla Presley lately? I caught a glimpse of her on a promo for “Dinner Impossible” recently and nearly choked. Methinks the woman has gone one nip and tuck too far and has crossed over into Janice Dickinson territory. These women looked pained and pissed off because they no longer have the elasticity in their skin to smile.
Priscilla was always very beautiful. She snagged The King. She was fresh and lovely when they met, and with the exception of some ill-advised hair and makeup choices on her wedding day, remained fresh and lovely for many years. Something in her must have snapped though. Perhaps it was Lisa Marie’s disastrous marriage to Michael Jackson. Maybe at that point Priscilla was thrust into a different kind of spotlight, her daughter’s shenanigans overshadowing any previous celebrity she enjoyed as Elvis’ wife. I’d like to see any woman not crumble after hearing herself described as “Jacko’s mother-in-law.” But I digress…
The only plastic surgery I’ve ever considered or desired was all stuff below the neckline. My breasts were done for as soon as I bit into my first Twinkie when I was a kid, so I’ve frequently imagined myself with a nice perky pair that don’t flop all over the place whenever they’re not restrained. Oh to be able to hop down the stairs without risking a concussion! That would be nice, but I really can’t imagine sculpting my dream cleavage out of my retirement funds. Shouldn’t there be a point where you should just let things go south unless you want to look freakishly frozen like one of Madame Tussaud’s wax figures?
Of course age doesn’t just rob the beautiful of their looks. It screws us all. Our minds, once sharp, become less so. We can no longer walk to the mailbox without getting winded (or is that just me?) and the value of our experience becomes less valued as our salaries increase. Age also diminishes the bravado and fearlessness unique to the young. Recently Nathan and I took Autumn to the playground, and while we were there a group of teenagers descended on the place. We’d had the playground to ourselves up to that point and considered leaving lest they get too rowdy. But Autumn was instantly fascinated. Their energy was intoxicating and she was drawn to them like a magnet, so we hung back a bit and watched as she attempted to mingle. They were careful around her, but they were also stupid, climbing up the outside of the suicidal slides with the posted “No Cimbing” signs. We kept our distance, but were at the ready should one of them get too close to Autumn or get hurt themselves.
After the kids left, I asked Nathan if he was ever like that; stupid and heedless of rules or his own mortality. He said he wasn’t. Had he been born a 38 year-old man I’d be inclined to believe him, but he wasn’t, and watching Autumn watch those kids made me realize how far we’ve come and how much further she has to go before she stops being a danger to herself. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.
I realize I’m all over the place with this post, but I guess my point is so far I’m at peace with the whole getting older thing. In spite of the hair which is increasing in salt and decreasing in pepper and the sagging…everything, I very much like where my mind is right now. I sometimes look at the young and their insecurities and want to pat them on the back and say, “Nobody really cares what you’re hang-ups are and in a few years you won’t care either.”
But it would be quite the bonus to be able to say that while sporting a spectacular rack.
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