We both recently turned 40 and when that happens, one naturally tries to take stock in one’s life and in doing so, ask that most inevitable and important question: How much work should I get done?
Oh, don’t look at us like that. Like you never asked the question? Not once? If the answer is no, then you’re a liar, or worse, you’re under 35. In either case, your opinion doesn’t count in this conversation.
We both always said we were going to age gracefully, but sugars, when we look around and see that almost no one else is doing so, then doesn’t that naturally force the question of whether or not we need to redefine what “aging gracefully” means? If we hit 60 with the natural faces of 60-year-olds, aren’t we going to stand out against seemingly everyone else in our generation traveling through life looking as if they just walked in on their own surprise party?
Don’t get us wrong, we don’t want to look younger than our age. Firstly because it’s a fool’s errand and secondly because we like being our age. Crow’s feet and salt and pepper hair? We think that’s hot, actually. We welcome it. Klingon-like foreheads, jowls and droopy eyelids? Not so much, honeys.
Here’s the thing: did you ever watch Extreme Makeover? We admit, it’s a guilty pleasure and we only watch it with the drapes closed, like porn with less nudity and more scalpels. If you haven’t, you should watch it some time. Not only is it nauseatingly exploitive, but EVERY SINGLE TIME someone gets work done on the show, they usually look better (mainly because if you’re on the show, it’s because the producers decided you’re ugly enough to be on the show), but they also usually look pretty freakish. Those massive, blindingly white teeth that they shove into all their mouths! The shiny, tissue-paper skin around their eyes that looks like it’s gonna rip the first time they wink! The foreheads that look like skating rinks! The cheek implants that make them look like Jack Nicholson as The Joker! And why do the women always opt for the stripper look in their hair and makeup? Honeys, isn’t there a better way?
So yes, every time we find ourselves peering into the mirror and framing our face with our hands so we can pull the skin back as if we were Greta Garbo, we run to the TV to see if there’s an EM marathon on just to scare the lingering thoughts of going under the knife out of our heads.
So okay, surgery’s out. And sure, like so many of our brethren, we have a healthy supply of expensive anti-aging creams in our medicine cabinets but even when we’re diligently applying the stuff, we know in the back of our heads that it’s mostly expensive crap that isn’t going to do much for us in the long run. Chemical peels and botox scare us a little but not enough to completely rule it out, y’know?
What we’re really banking on is by the time we’re 50, the cosmetic surgery industry will have improved its techniques to the point that the results look better than what we’re seeing on people now and we can get a quick eyelift at a drivethru for a couple hundred bucks on our lunch hour. Darlings, won’t that be utopia? Everyone will look fabulous! Except the poor, of course.
Okay, okay. Fine. We’re shallow. We own it. But just writing this post* has caused us to have a little breakthrough. We now realize that we shouldn’t obsess about such superficial things and if God had intended us to look fuckable at seventy, we’d all be pumping out more and more collagen and calcium with each passing year. So fine, bitches. We’ll take up yoga or something.
*Actually, googling all these pictures is what really scared us off.