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 The previously skinny face of the Bridget Jones has been replaced by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?