Am I aging well or failing miserably?

Image by State Library of Queensland, Australia via Flickr

I think there should be a website where women can go to see how well or how poorly we're aging. We would post a current face and body shot upon joining, and complete a profile questionnaire that covers our lifestyle choices, diet and exercise histories, bad habits and for how long, pregnancies and at what age, stressful jobs and methods of unwinding, and whether or not we've shouldered more than our fair share of heartbreaks.

If you've had any work done you must cop to it. And by work done I mean chemical peels, microdermabrasion, topical non-invasive stuff. But no plastic surgery. That should be a whole separate website.

Why? Because no woman should ever have to compare herself to another woman of the same age or any other age for that matter who has had "work done". Butt jobs, boob jobs, all that good stuff. I'm not saying I'm AGAINST that stuff mind you. Go for it if you're well of age and doing it for the right reasons with realistic expectations. Still, those of us who haven't gone under the knife shouldn't ever compare ourselves to you. It isn't fair and it does undue damage to our psyches.

One might argue that women should never compare themselves to other women. But come on. Did you make it through that argument without snorting? All we do is compare ourselves to other women. All everybody does is compare us to other women. Right? And if they don't there's no way we'll be convinced to the contrary.

Let's line ourselves up like show horses and get down to business. I want a realistic picture of how I stack up against others of my sex. How old are you? Forty? Good, I'm turning 40 in September. What's that? A hint of crow's feet? But no sun damage? Grrr. I hate you. And you, what about you? 40 too? You look a little apple-dollish but your cleavage is young woman cleavage. Not a hint of crepe or drape. I hate you too. What, you never went to a tanning booth? Wish I could say the same thing. I don't know why I did. Who knows what I was thinking. I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway. What? You used to lay out in your back yard and slather yourself in baby oil? Yup, been there too. Why did we do it? Oh, that's right. We were only thinking of the moment and how the tan would make us appear ten pounds thinner. Ten pounds thinner than some other woman. And how we wanted to look good in that short skirt at the club that night.

I'm serious. Let's do this thing. In my eyes every other woman my age looks much better than I do. When I see another woman on television who I suspect might be around my age, I strain forward to judge her skin condition. Not a line in sight. Sigh. I'm not aging well. When people see me they'll make a note and when asked about me they'll widen their eyes and say, "She's not aging well." And just like that my postage stamp sized share of relevance will be obliterated.

I guess the shocking reality is finally hitting me. We don't grow older, but our bodies do. I always assumed I would look out at the world through 40 year old eyes and feel like a 40 year old — mature and actually wanting to wear sensible shoes. It doesn't happen that way.

Ah, wouldn't it be nice if we could look at ourselves and see only "me" instead of transpositions of thousands of other women? If we could look at each other that way too? If growing older weren't akin to miserable failure? As though we could control it somehow. Personally, I respect women I see aging gracefully and pity the ones I see fighting it tooth and nail every step of the way. Don't send any nasty letters, I don't mean the women who take reasonable measures to keep themselves up. I think we all should. We owe it to ourselves and our loved ones. I'm referring to the desperate, sad ones who haven't felt pretty or loved since the day they stopped looking eighteen. The ones who think they have nothing to offer to a soul outside of a pleasant representation of womankind.

Oh, please don't fashion me into one of those women! Instead, saturate me with acceptance and calm. Turn my eyes outward and blanket them with kindness so that I may help those around me to feel loved and beautiful... because they are.