The other day I had just finished showering, preparing to teach an evening class, when the dryer finished its cycle. I brought the basket upstairs, in my bathrobe, and pulled on a pair of socks that were on top. I am now ruined for non-dryer-warmed socks. Regular socks are just a sad imitation of a superior product. However, it would be pretty bad, ecologically-wise, for me to run the dryer every time I put on a pair of socks, and yet it is a very tempting prospect, especially on a day like today when we are in “winter storm warning;” at minus 21 with a ton of snow I wish I could just live in the dryer. Or maybe have clothes made out of electric blankets.
Speaking of ecological warriors, because of changes – FINALLY – made by the CRTC, I was able to actually see Superbowl commercials yesterday! For those of you not in Canada, this is a huge thing. Local stations would take over and instead of seeing the big-time commercials, we would see locally-made commercials for a furniture warehouse, or commercials for the actual television station that we were watching. Normally my husband would just record the whole game, start late, and zap through the commercials. But not this year! This year I got to see this one with Melissa McCarthy and this one, which is my new favourite thing and, proving that advertising really does work, I am going to look into this hair care line.
My hair has reached critical “it’s winter” dryness and that, coupled with my grey-root situation that is typical in this stage of my hair-colour cycle, is making me feel a bit dreary. I am trying to reconcile my I-Am-Woman-And-Growing-Old-Is-Beautiful-Screw-The-Youth-Culture mentality with my Eeek-Don’t-Look-Too-Closely-In-The-Mirror mentality. Know what I mean? I want to not care about my marionette lines and my undereye circles and my forehead ridges, but vanity, it is the last to die. I wrote this piece all about self-care and I love it, I really do. I think it’s one of my favourite things I’ve written in recent memory, and I believe every word I wrote, and yet it is HARD sometimes, to smile while looking in the mirror. I mean, in some ways it’s not, because I suffer from a mad case of Bitchy Resting Face, and smiling alleviates that.
Ah, I should not focus so much on appearance, am I right? My friend and I were having tea the other day and talking about exercise and keeping in shape, as we grow older. “It’s not about aesthetics,” I said, and then, for the sake of honesty I added, “Well, maybe it’s a little about aesthetics.” I wonder what age I will be when I stop caring about my appearance. Death, maybe?
Does anyone else suffer from this internal struggle? I don’t want to care about my appearance, but I do. I want to celebrate my aging self, and I do, but I also am starting to fully understand why celebrities get plastic surgery. Can you imagine being an actress, seeing yourself in reruns? For the vain – scratch that, for anyone – that would be difficult. And in this time of filters and Instagram and photoshopped everything, it’s hard to remember what real people actually look like. And for me, I feel very strong and healthy, and so it’s sometimes startling to see myself in the mirror, pre-makeup in the morning.
On that note, I was half-watching a movie with my husband on the weekend: Fifty Fifty. It is a very touching – and, apparently true – movie about a young man with cancer and a fifty-fifty chance of survival. No spoilers here, except that we were 95% of the way through a movie when I realized that the mother was played by Anjelica Huston. She’s aged, I thought, then mentally slapped myself because of course she’s aged! She’s not dead. We should all be lucky enough to age. What a terrible way to think, especially while watching a movie of such content.
Am I alone in this? Anyone else struggling a bit with this whole “looking our age” thing? Come here and let me hug you and pat your back with my knobbly, veiny old hands. xo