Why are we so afraid of aging?
Isn’t frowning and wrinkles and calling ourselves ugly the same as listening to toxic diet culture lies?
My husband and I have an on-going debate about getting old. It started off early in our relationship. We had only just started dating when he spotted a gray hair on my head.
“Oooh, oooh, gray hair, let me get it for you,” he said, peering down with his thumb and his pointer finger ready to pluck it away.
“NO!” I screamed, ducking out of his way. “Leave it!”
“Why? Why would you want to go gray?”
Because I think gray hair is beautiful? It’s a really abnormal perspective, I know. But I’ve actually felt this way my whole life.
I remember the day my love for gray hair all started. I was young, middle school I believe, when a new friend’s mom came to pick her up from after school and I couldn’t help but gawk at her hair. It was black, but with these gorgeous streaks of gray, which I quickly learned is the “salt and pepper” look. I loved it, and for some reason, found myself excited to go gray myself.
When I shared this with my friends and family, they laughed. They thought it was silly that I would actually be excited to lose the color of my hair. I just shrugged it off and wondered if it would be something I’d grow out of as well, if I would also gain this shared anxiety about getting old like everyone else.
Yet as the years went on, my love for getting old didn’t change. (Probably the weirdest sentence you read in a while, I know.) My love for gray hair grew into a love for wrinkles and aging spots. Sure, I worried about the weight on my body and how heavy I was, but I never worried about looking older. I like having the little crinkles next to my eyes or the forehead creases that come living normal days with normal emotions—laughing hard or scowling when I’m thinking through something or crying in grief.
I’ve reflected a lot on my love for getting old, and I think it’s not just about the look of it, but about what looking old symbolizes. “Older” usually is coupled with the word “wiser,” and I guess in my head I always figured looking older also meant having wisdom to share with the world. Even if the wisdom is simply passing down my grandmother’s Italian meatball recipe, or sharing the real-lived experiences I have with my kids or maybe someday grandkids (or heck, even my readers), I just loved the idea of being someone who has lived a full life and has thoughts to share.
On that same note, getting old also means having the privilege to live a long life, and that’s not a privilege that everyone gets to share. If I sport wrinkles and gray hair and aging spots, that means I had the joy and privilege of living a long life, and hopefully a good one.
But then, of course, as soon as I hit 30, I started seeing an influx of campaigns on my social feeds about anti-aging supplements and skin care routines and botox and celebrities telling me they “look so young” because they “did this one thing every day.” Which usually involves some kind of nasty green powder shake or a collagen supplement or some other BS the wellness industry tries to sell you. All with the goal of telling you that you should not look old and wrinkly. It’s basically a sin to do so, so join the rest of the world in their endless pursuit in chasing the fountain of youth.
I caught myself going down a rabbit hole one night, rethinking my whole I can’t wait to look old dream, thinking maybe I actually don’t want wrinkles or gray hair or looking like I lived a life. Should I get botox? Should I be taking all the right supplements? Is my simple three-step skin care routine from my dermatologist actually not enough, or should I buy all of the anti-aging serums that influencers tell me I need?
But I don’t, and I guess, it brings me to the question: why are we so afraid of getting older?
Better yet, why have we as a society decided that looking old is ugly? Why do we frown at wrinkles and aging spots and varicose veins and gray hair and think, I look horrible. Yes, your body will start to age and wear down, that is a natural part of life. Our body produces less collagen and the elasticity of our face starts to fade, causing the layer of fat in our skin to thin out and create wrinkles. This will happen, whether you try to stop it or not.
Sure, we can continue to eat all of the good, healthy foods with vitamin C (which helps to produce collagen) and animal products that contain collagen (like chicken, eggs, and fish). We can also consume calcium to keep our bones strong as they start to deteriorate, and move our body to keep the muscles going and keep our bodies mobile for as long as possible. These things are great, and definitely not something that I will ignore. I still strive to be like the 75-year-old woman who practices yoga next to me on Friday mornings when I grow up.
But I do think we need to change the language around the look of getting older. In the same way we’re trying to break free of toxic diet culture lies, we also need to break free of those toxic ageism lies, and start looking at it as being just as beautiful as being young. Life is too short to look at our bodies and hate it. So what if, instead, you let your body naturally do what its meant to, and love all the wrinkles and gray hair that comes your way?
I know, I may be a little too positive about this, and likely not something you’ll be able to break out of for a while, especially if you’ve felt a fear about looking old for a long time. But I do think it’s worth considering when it comes to the comments we tell ourselves when we look at our bodies. Because in our endless to pursuit to “look good,” we’re kind of missing the point of what really matters: living a full, happy life that you love, and collecting stories and wisdom to share when you are old and gray.
I’ve been having a lot of fun testing out popular recipes and writing reviews for The Kitchn recently, and this slow-cooker lentil soup was a surprising favorite. I’m usually not a lentil girlie, but I don’t know, this soup may have made ma convert. Reese Witherspoon shared this recipe on her Instagram a couple years ago, and while she didn’t give any measurements for her recipe, I did some guessing. And all I have to say is, don’t skimp on the sausage. It makes all the difference.
Here’s the recipe: Reese Witherspoon’s Slow Cooker Lentil Soup
Psssst! Like this gorgeous photo? I’m now offering food photography services! Reach out if you have a project in mind; let’s chat about it.
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Catch up on some of my latest articles!
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18 Winter Romance Books to Swoon Over This Season (The Everygirl)
The #1 Anti-Inflammatory Drink to Buy at Target, According to a Dietitian (Eating Well)