Reflections on Aging as a Woman in America

We were all so beautiful when we were young……we didn’t think so, of course – society, advertising, our moms, our inner voices all criticized our most minute flaws from puberty onwards, taught us to worry about pimples, crooked teeth, a few extra pounds, frizzy hair, less than perfect body images, whatever was in fashion at the time in terms of makeup or clothing…. but look at us. Look at our skin, our eyes, our thick shiny hair. Look at the invincible confidence in our faces, our postures. We knew we were smart, that we could take on anything life threw at us, the world was our oyster and we were the pearl. My best girlfriends and I.

Now that we are grappling with middle age – the life-changing, body-changing effects of having and nursing babies, decades of health problems or no health problems at all, too much work and not enough rest, genetic destiny, stress, worry, the various travails of life – we don’t like what we see in the mirror any more. We are avoidant of posting recent photos of ourselves on social media. No one shows up at reunions any more for fear of the whispered “Well, she didn’t age well” sort of comments. “Too bad- she was such a beauty.” “She got fat.” “Too much plastic surgery gone bad.” “Too haggard.” “Too thin” “Too much makeup.” “Trying too hard.”…..too, too, too, too. This is really a shame for many reasons, even beyond the obvious. We have each of us achieved incredible things, my girlfriends and I. We are doctors and lawyers and engineers, corporate executives, teachers, managers, bankers, ministers, scientists. We did things our mothers never dreamt of doing. We are employees of the year and unsung sheroes who did all the work and still managed to raise the next generation of leaders. Why should we feel shame about our bodies now that we are now getting older? Intellectually, we may not buy into the beauty myth of youth culture, but individually, the idealized forms still haunt us.

If there were anything I could wish for us now, it would be pride or at least acceptance of our aging bodies. Realizing what our bodies have become is our life’s story, our strength, not our shame. Who else knows us like we know each other? Who else can we turn to when we need to share the deepest secrets of our hearts? Lovers come and go. Life takes you here or there – you make new friends, but they only know you now. They didn’t know you then. Children grow up and leave. You wouldn’t want it any other way. But girlfriends are forever.