You look good for your age
“Wow, you look good for your age!”
“Oh my, you’re what? [fill in the age], you don’t look that at all!”
Hands up who has heard or said these words before.
Now, be really honest, if you’ve been the recipient, how has that made you feel.
Did you opt for a semi-smile and say thank you.
Did you feel awkward and um and ah before replying.
Did you grin within and allow your ego her time in the sun.
Did you get sad or pissed off.
I reckon I’ve done all four at different stages of my life. And yes, this is the point — this backhanded compliment can arrive at any age. I’ve been getting it from my early 30s.
The more important question is why do we say it at all.
Why can’t we just say, “You look good!” Full-stop.
I know, I can hear the naysayers arguing that we shouldn’t even be focusing on a woman’s looks.
But I disagree. I believe it’s actually ok to receive a compliment. It’s ok to be told you look good. Or to tell someone they look good. There is nothing wrong with it. We live in a human body after all.
The issue rather is about the emphasis we place on it, and, more importantly, our attachment to it.
At times, I’ve really held on to a comment like that. When I was feeling fragile, when I was having an off day, when I was wondering if I was past my societal use-by-date. But the one consistency in all those times was that I was caught up in a narrative that wasn’t mine.
When I changed the narrative, when I created my own, my attachment to those comments tempered.
The thing is, in my experience at least, I find it’s usually women who say that to other women. I don’t hear it that often from men. They mostly just say, you look hot (or not).
So, in many ways, as women, we unconsciously perpetuate ageism with comments like these.
I’ve done it. You’ve probably done it. We are all guilty.
I just heard it again yesterday from an intelligent, amazing and dear woman. That prompting me to write this piece.
As a society ‘we’ complain about ageism as if it is someone else’s job to fix. It’s how ‘we’ often like to do difficult things.
But the truth is, the job is ours.
It’s our narrative to oust.
But how?
I’ve discovered that the only fix, so to speak, is to embrace it.
No more 50 is the new 30 or 60 is the new 40 as that is still ageism in disguise.
30 is 30. 40 is 40. 50 is 50. 60 is 60.
Radiance exudes from a woman who is content with where she is. It’s not about creamy skin or plump breasts. The most beautiful face knows where her beauty arises from.
You see as women we are nature. We resemble nature so we can go to her for assistance.
Nature is alive. She doesn’t live in the past or future, just in this very moment.
A leaf doesn’t know how old she is. An autumn leaf isn’t in competition with a spring leaf.
A tree doesn’t try to act younger than her age. Actually, we adore old trees. We even bestow them with plaques and protect them in their elder years.
The tides wash in and out. The moon waxes and wanes. The seasons turn. The sun rises and sets. We don’t think about how old they are when we admire their magnificence.
We can also ask ourselves what we mean when we say you look good for your age. Is it that you don’t have grey hair. You don’t have wrinkles. Your face is full and silken. Your skin is smooth and soft. Your eyes sparkle. You dress cool and in trend. You have a slim waistline….
Then, we challenge those narratives.
I have wrinkles around my eyes. My skin is not the same as it was ten years ago, and definitely not 20 years ago. I’ve lost elastin and there are places where I notice this more than others.
Last year I caught my face in the mirror as I was walking out of the shower. My hair was wet and pulled back so the lines around my eyes looked a little more distinct.
I was just about to say to myself, ‘Oh Sharon, look at those wrinkles’. And then I stopped. I changed direction and I said, ‘Who ever created the notion that wrinkles look bad’.
Imagine if no one had ever told us that, would we still cringe each time we saw one.
In that moment I not only laughed but I switched my narrative on wrinkles. I no longer defined them as good or bad, they just were.
I wouldn’t be who I am today without every single year and every single experience. With each wrinkle I’ve expanded. With each passing year I’m growing into my own wise old tree.
I’m just as dynamic and ever-changing as She is.
If I could name one thing that keeps me on this path, it’s that connection to Her. The Mother. The Goddess. Mother Nature. Ma Durga. Shakti. Shekhinah. The Feminine principle. Whatever you wish to call Her.
When I see myself in Her, it all feels right. When I detach myself from Her, it all starts to get wobbly.
As women we owe this to one another and as I deepen into my life and years, I’m even more passionate about this work.
PS: You’ve probably noticed this is my first post here in six months. Life got a bit full for a while there, priorities around family, a few hiccups of my own. But as we deepen into winter in the southern hemisphere, I’m deepening into my writing. I’m not sure how regular these pieces will be, but when the inspiration strikes, you’ll find a message about ageing, womanhood and menopause in your inbox. I’d love for you to share in the conversation. As women, we are all in this together, whether 25, 55 or 75.
