Rockin' your (advanced) age...

I’m not particularly a gossip column kind of girl, but I am into facebook. As a result, I am exposed to all sorts of news, due to the variety of interests represented by my facebook friends. Recently, pictures of actress Renee Zellweger have been popping up like crazy. Why, you ask? Well, for those of you who don’t know, she suddenly appeared with a new face. Yes, a new face. The previously skinny face of the Bridget Jones has been replaced by a fuller and more “adult” looking version. She’s basically unrecognizable.

Some articles are taking this opportunity to soapbox the dangers of injectables and other media is commenting negatively on how “old” she looks. As unfortunate as it is, Renee was forced into making a public statement. Yeah, because everyone should have to make a public media statement about how their face looks. Right. 

I was intrigued, so I read it. She talks about how she has never been happier or healthier, and that she is finding a way to enjoy her life in a way that she didn’t find possible in previous years. I have no idea if she used injectables, as she didn’t address it in her statement, nor do I care. Here’s what I care about. 

Assuming she is telling the truth, she’s happy and healthy. This is good news.   

 

A few months ago, I had the opportunity to browse the bookshelves in a bookstore. As I rarely “browse” anything anymore (being with two 5 year old kids the majority of my time), this event stood out as noteworthy to me. As I ambled through the aisles, investigating titles and covers, I marveled at the sheer number of books written. If you really ponder that thought, it’s amazing. After all, there are only 26 letters in the alphabet and they have the potential form in so many combinations to create such potential for imagination. Books transport you to another place, another time, and another life. They are magic. Pure magic. 

The next day, I was at the gym on a treadmill with an attached TV. I was listening to music, but I glanced at the screen from time to time as it is strategically placed in front of me. Towards the end of my workout, a commercial came on that I hadn’t seen before. It began with Cindy Crawford and moved on to Debra Messing and was captioned as “Rocking the forties”. It was selling an anti-aging skin cream. Hmmm. Both ladies were interviewed on the product. I didn’t have the sound, so I didn’t hear their commentary, but I can imagine from their facial expressions and hand gestures that they were proclaiming its greatness. They then showed the before and after pictures. (Insert irritated sigh here). Debra Messing’s “before” photo was untouched by photo shop and she wore limited makeup. Her “after” shot was fully made up and most likely photo shopped as well. 

Hmm… No wonder there was such an improvement. Can you say “false advertizing?”

I found myself irrationally irritated by this commercial and I’m not at all confused as to why. I am turning 39 in June. Ok, I’m not 40 yet. I am, however, close enough to put myself in the category of women this ad is targeting so I’m going to take some mathematical liberties with my commentary. 

I fully intend to “rock my forties”, but it will have nothing to do with flawless skin and a perfect waistline. Sure, I wouldn’t mind looking cute in my bathing suit or taking a little better care of my skin, but that’s certainly NOT what will determine if my 40’s are rocking. 

My 40’s will be rocking if I am, in the grand scheme of things, doing well and continuing to make myself a better person. Am I finding the time to be a good friend, despite crazy life demands and hectic schedules? Am I good mom and wife? Do I find the time to hang out with my kids and husband? Do I make people laugh and smile? Do I spend time with my extended family? Am I using my brain? Am I continuing to use my experience in education to enhance the learning experience of my students?  Being a writer, I’d love to publish something one day. I would never object to “rocking my forties” including a published book with my name on it. 

And I’ll tell you for free that when my kids see me and their faces light up, it’s not because my anti- wrinkle cream worked. It’s because my face represents love, warmth and security. They love me just as much when my face is a mess and my hair is a disaster. 

I don’t know much about Cindy Crawford, but Debra Messing is someone that I have always admired professionally. That woman is hilarious. Her facial expressions are out of control. I remember her role on “Will and Grace” and she was a riot. She could cheer up my grumpiest day. And I don’t care if she has wrinkles because if she laughs at life as frequently as she makes others laugh, they will probably have more wrinkles. 

One of my favorite parts of growing older is that I am growing continually less concerned by how I am perceived by strangers and non essential people to my life. Not to say that I don’t feel it’s important to present yourself well in the world. Quite the contrary, I believe it to be extremely important. I believe that when you do a job, you should do it well. I believe that you will be noticed for how you treat the people around you and for the respect you command. I believe that it’s essential to be kind, classy and professional in your daily life.  I believe that “looking good” is part of how you present yourself to the world, and that presenting well tells others that you put value in being classy. This is especially true in a professional setting.

But wrinkles? Really? That’s the BIGGEST problem I’m going to face in my forties? Oh no. Someone might notice my WRINKLES? Crap, man. My forties are officially unrocked! No saving me now! 

And I find myself wondering about Cindy Crawford and Debra Messing (and the women they represent). I don’t mind if they want to take good care of their skin to feel good about their appearance, but are they nice people? Are they fun? Are they nice? Do their friends know that they can count on them in a pinch? I hope so. Otherwise, really, what’s the point?