I’m not particularly keen on looking in the mirror these days. At the age of 68 & 11/12 the reflection is not what it was 50 years ago, or even, it seems, 50 days ago. Time marches on and my face and body have no intention of being left behind.
I’d hate to sound like some old stick-in-the-mud, but I can’t help reflecting on the number of cosmetic procedures being carried out these days. I really am a 'live and let live' kind of person. I was brought up very liberally, particularly for a girl of my generation. Hair dye and pierced ears might not have gone down too well at my 1960s grammar school but my mom was pretty laissez faire. So when I had kids I was much the same. We picked our battles - and how the kids chose to look was very low down the list.
However, I have to say, I’m glad that my daughter was never tempted to change her appearance surgically. Naturally, I thought she didn’t need to, but having seen some of the young girls of this next generation I realize ‘need’ doesn’t come into it. Like all teenagers and young adults, these kids don’t want to be different, they want to look the same as their peers and if that means foreheads that don’t move, and lips that look as though they could unblock a sink, then so be it*.
Just recently, I saw a call out on Facebook by a young girl. She wanted to know the best place to go for lip plumping. She was 18, with a beautiful shapely mouth. I was shocked by the number of replies from friends with recommendations. Without exception these friends had that same swollen lipped look. In my eyes, they had all been young and pretty - and individual -before the lip procedures. I guess it’s another indication of the dissatisfaction we women feel about ourselves. In my day it was another coating of mascara or some glossy lipstick. Now it’s all about procedures.
I have very mixed feelings about this. I have some sympathy for anybody requesting cosmetic surgery for facial or bodily features that are causing distress, but instinctively, I’m against any surgery that is purely for cosmetic purposes, especially as there is the potential for things to go terribly wrong. I could name names but I won't. We've all seen the grotesque results of too much surgery. Where does it all end? It seems as if it's addictive and that can't be a good thing.
I suppose it comes down to personal preference. Give me a woman with natural looks, over one who is overly groomed any day. Maybe it’s because I’m lazy? Don’t get me wrong, I feel more confident with a slick of make up and my hair at least brushed, but please don’t ask me to do more than that. As somebody fast approaching her eighth decade I'm sure I could probably be transformed for a few £100K but what would be the point? You’d only have to look at the skin on the backs of my hands to realise I’m no spring chicken. There’s always a giveaway.
Have surgery to erase my life? No thanks, I’ll stay as I am, warts - and lines - and all.
Life Story by Jill Reidy
This mark here
See, this tiny little crater
Right there, touch it
That was chicken pox when I was three
And these lines that appear
As I crinkle up my eyes
See how they fan out from the corners
That’s from a life of laughter
And a few sad tears
But mostly laughter
Two little furrows between my brows
They’ve been there quite a while,
Look
Either side of the mole
That my mom assured me was a beauty spot
Feel them, they’re deep
They’ll never go
Too much time frowning at the light
Worrying, facing problems
Late into the night
See my lips
How they’ve thinned and cracked
The cold sore scars still red and raised
And the tiny threads that wind their way
From lip to nose
Years of tuneless whistling
Kissing too
Yes, maybe a little kissing
Babies, children, adults
That's what caused those
Look, these two roads
That now run deep
From corners of my mouth to under chin
Like the wooden dummy on ventriloquist's lap
They’re from singing lullabies
Reading stories as eyes slowly closed
Chatting, teaching, swapping tales
Yawning
More laughing
And telling you I love you
That’s my face, the story of my life.
Thanks for reading......Jill
*With apologies to anybody who has been plumped and smoothed so well that I would never even know.
Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook
