I was hiking with the boys and, as I always do, I greeted a pair of women we passed on the path. We exchanged some pleasantries about the day and the steepness of the hike – we hiked Prairie Mountain, it is straight up and straight down, with zero gentle switchbacks – and then we carried on our way. I heard the women speaking rapidly in French behind us, like they were discussing something, and, later when we were taking a break, they went to pass us. They paused for a moment, and then one of the women approached me and said, “This is a very strange question, maybe, but are you an economist?”
I said yes, and then we looked at each other for a moment. It took a beat but then I recognized her from my time at the Economics Society, back in the Nineties; she was a prominent member at that time, and I was still a grad student. It had been twenty-five years since we had seen each other, and I expressed my astonishment not only that we should run into each other on a hiking trail on a random Monday morning in July, but also that she recognized me after all this time. She said, “Well, of course I did, you look exactly the same!”
I used to think this kind of statement, while very kind, generous, and well-meaning, is an objectively wrong one, but I think I am at a point in my life where I understand it. Objectively, I do not look exactly the same as I did in 1996, nor does anyone else. Twenty-five years of living changes a person physically, obviously. However, the essence of a person can be unchanged over that time period; after all, I recognized this woman immediately as well, and she would have been younger than I am now when I last saw her. It’s not unlike when you see a childhood group photo and you can instantly recognize your friends; no one looks the same as they did when they were a child, but their essence is still there.
My mother-in-law once said to me that she never really sees me as aging; to her, I just look like the same Nicole she’s always known, and I understand what that means. I see my friends and loved ones in the same way; maybe there are a few more lines or changes, but essentially, I just see the same people I know and love. It’s more than just physical, even if the last time I saw a person was in high school, I can still immediately see the person I knew then, shining through now. I never think Jesus, maybe some eye cream? I just think Yay, there’s my beautiful friend. All of which goes to show that we never really see ourselves as others see us, we are our own worst critics, and if we could treat ourselves the way we treat our friends, the world would be an infinitely better place.
Speaking of which. Lately I have had a disproportionately large number of friends and acquaintances on social media show their before and after photos, the before and after referring to Botox and dermal fillers. I am going to tell you this: they all, without exception, look fantastic. It’s quite incredible; they look like the same people, but smoother and fresher. They don’t look weird or fake in any way, they look like they have applied an Instagram filter, but in real life.
I try not to compare myself to others, but I found myself comparing my own face – which is, in repose, bitchy-looking at best, haggard and Crypt Keeper-like at worst – to their smooth and fresh faces. I am generally a confident person with healthy self-esteem, but I was kind of feeling bad about myself. This feeling was not unlike the one I get when I look at Instagram photos of women my age, but don’t realize that they are filtered, and I end up wondering how I got to looking like the Crypt Keeper when everyone else looks young and lovely.
It’s hard to explain the opposing forces in my brain. I am, as you all know, Pro-Aging, but I am also not made of stone, people. I took some time to do a little research and I discovered that my old dermatologist – who I went to for acne issues, hello Circle of Life – performs these sorts of procedures. I kept reading and realized that one of the contraindications to getting Botox and dermal fillers is skin that scars easily and, since I still have tiny little scars all over my legs from varicose vein stripping over a decade ago – complete with dots from where the stitches went in – I closed my browser and closed my mind to it.
It’s for the best, really. Isn’t it funny how these things work? Some of the most beautiful women I have ever met are the septuagenarian and octogenarian ladies in my seniors’ yoga class; they truly have the faces they deserve, as the saying goes, with their inner beauty shining through. And although I’d love to look more rested – my eyebags are sometimes steamer trunks – and less crinkly, well, this is the face I have and, ultimately, the face I deserve. I raise my eyebrows a lot, I smile a lot, I make that “Kermit the Frog scrunch face” a lot, and my face reflects that. I’m going to be at peace with it and also, keep up with the retinol creams. Jesus, maybe some eye cream?
Outfit of the Week
This is probably my very favourite summer outfit of all time. I feel so cute in it, it makes me want to twirl around like a ballerina, or like my seven-year-old niece. I COULD do that without fear of traumatizing anyone, as it is a skort, albeit kind of a short one. I paired it with a yoga tank because even though I now have comfortable bras, I still like a shelf-bra tank on hot days. Sandals are Skechers, naturally.
It’s not every day my accessories match my outfit this perfectly! That bracelet was made by my friend Amy (HI AMY)!
Pandemic Reading
A Thousand Ships. In my very first semester at university, I took an introduction to classical studies, and our required reading was The Iliad, The Odyssey, and a few other Greek plays. It is very telling that I have never read them since, and, in fact, I couldn’t remember anything about them. I think I blocked them out. I have extremely low interest in men’s stories: I could not care less about mighty warriors and their conquests, and I definitely don’t want to read about all the capturing, enslaving, and raping said conquests. However, I was intrigued by this book which explores the Trojan war through the eyes of the women. I did not love this book, but I did like the different point of view, and I did like to see women portrayed as something other than crazy, long-suffering, and vain.
When No One Is Watching. This book is marketed as a psychological thriller, but it doesn’t really read as one – at least for the first two-thirds of the book. It is more of an educational exploration of the practice of redlining and the dark, sad side of gentrification, with thrilling dramatic license. I liked this a lot as it is very mind-opening, and the end is thrilling and satisfying, but it’s not what I consider to be a typical thriller. Still, very much worth the read.
A Burning. Oh, this was so so good. I picked this up on the advice of Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) and it did not disappoint. It follows the story of a woman who is accused of aiding and abetting a terrorist act in India, through the points of view of three very different people, all of whom are trying to rise up in the world. It is an absolutely chilling portrait of what people will do to make their way up the ladder, so to speak. I love books that have a realistic description of different places and cultures, and this book describes India – its economics, culture, cities and villages – so well.
I hope you are all enjoying the summer; we are doing our best to make it A Summer, after the disappointments of last year. Have fun, be kind – especially to yourself. xo
