Fun in Chicago . . .
Tuesday, May 27th, 2008- (by Martha)
- 8 responses
- Category: Uncategorized
Had this essay come out in Sunday’s Chicago Tribune, and I was amazed at the response. So, I thought I’d post it here and see if any of you had anything to say about what I had to say.
Age before beauty is true view
By Martha Woodroof
May 25, 2008
For me, 60 need not be the new 30. I’ve already been 30, and I prefer adventure to repetition.
I do still dance uncontrollably in grocery store aisles, but I’ve moved way beyond the person I was at 30. And I have no desire for anyone to take me as anything other than what I am: A woman who’s officially old.
Yet, I’m barraged with the message that looking like the person I really am is so not the way to go.
My bemusement peaked recently at the college fitness center where I work out. From my perch on the elliptical, I could check in on three TV networks: CNN, NBC and CBS, which was airing “The View.”
Except for Whoopi Goldberg (God bless her!), the hosts of “The View” came off as aging, animated dolls.
What has Barbara Walters done to herself, and why? She’s Barbara Walters, for pity’s sake. Does she think we expect her or even want her to look less seasoned than we know she is?
The other two women looked like shop-worn Barbies; same perky expression, dyed hair, bright make-up. Nothing at all about how they looked told me anything about who they were as individuals, or what, if anything, was going on in their minds.
I rate people’s appearance by whether they look like someone I would want to have lunch with. Let’s just say I would love to lunch with Goldberg. She obviously has something going on inside her head.
On NBC, two women hosts were talking with their guests about a children’s book. One host’s eyebrows had been lifted into permanent surprise; her lips stretched into an everlasting half-smile. She wore bright make-up, had very red hair, was dressed in standard talk-show clothes—tailored, with cleavage. Every bit of experience had been stretched from her face. She might have spent her 50 plus years in a glass case. Her sidekick was younger but equally standard-issue.
And then there was the depressing children’s picture book they were discussing. It was about how parents might talk to their children about mommy’s face lift.
Mommy looks, “Not just different, my dear—prettier!”
Then next door, on CNN, Dr. Michael DeBakey was getting yet another presidential medal in honor of his lifetime of contributions to medicine. DeBakey is an un-enhanced centenarian. His lined, sagging face suggests he would be a rewarding person to lunch with. What keeps Barbara Walters from joining DeBakey in seeing herself in terms of what she has done and thought, and letting time write its proud notes upon her face?
Look, I do sometimes miss those days when I could turn heads, miss that frisson of awareness that often sparked when I entered a room. But that was a passing accident of birth, and I knew it all along. So what, exactly, is wrong with looking 60 if you are 60?
I came of age fighting for civil rights and against the Vietnam War. I’ve always thought of my generation as folks who are unafraid to change, who saw life as being about more than conformity.
So what happened to us? What has frightened us into denying who we are—the generation who isn’t afraid to change?
Martha Woodroof is a radio reporter and the author of “How to Stop Screwing Up: Twelve Steps to a Real Life and a Pretty Good Time.”
Copyright © 2008, Chicago Tribune
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I’m about to hit the big 5-0 this week…so I couldn’t have read this at a better time. I cannot stand all the plastic faces we see on TV. It’s a shame. I am just grateful to be sober right now. How I look is unimportant, though I’m working on the weight thing. I’d love to be thin again and turn a few heads but the fact of the matter is that I was seeking that experience when I did not know who I was. Now that I am gettig to know myself again, age and my looks are outside issues.
’sheep in lamb’s clothing’ is the first thing that popped into my head. and i certainly don’t ever want anyone to say that about me.
look the best you can, as natural as possible, as suited to your age. being young at heart you can always be, as age is but a number in your spirit. but please, some plastic surgery is blatantly obvious and thus, to me, not enhancing, but detracts from beauty.
no-one wants to get old, but we all do, (life is a terminal disease after all), and accepting it gracefully is more beautiful than faking it. interesting subject.
Great article, Martha. I’m not surprised that you got such a good response.
On June 17, 2007 I posted a blog entry (Goldendaze) titled “Whose Hand Is This?” with a picture of my 75 year old hand. The last two paragraphs went like this:
“And now I am in the quiet phase of my life and I realize how lucky I have been. I have had ups and downs in my long life but I have basically been blessed. I have a loving family and a multitude of friends.
Once again I look at my hands and I smile to think how many years it has taken to sculpt them as they are. These are my hands… I have earned them and I marvel that every wrinkle and swollen knuckle is the culmination of those years that I almost forgot.”
(Once again you and I relate, Martha.)
I think that somehow these women have forgotten that aging is a process. Trying to find the fountain of youth through surgery just won’t work. I think that there is basically so much focus in the US on beauty that aging women start to feel insecure.
Wow. what a powerful and salient article you’ve written. I do battle with this topic…well, probably daily. As a woman about to turn 43, I am noticing the deepening wrinkles in my hands and face, often in passing– often as i catch myself in a window or mirror on my way hurrying from or to some dreadfully important place or event. But these moments interrupt the march. They worm their way into my consciousness ever so slightly and then i let them fall away again as i rush onward–out of sadness, fear and self-recrimination. If i could only remember to wear more sunscreen or get some more sleep or eat better, I could ward off the incessant tug of gravity just one more year. Alas, I have fallen victim to the constant drumming of our ‘take a pill to fix it’ culture: don’t grow old, don’t grow old, don’t grow old. I, who grew up in that age of change and promise and focus on what was truly important in this world, have begun to think about which of the boutique options I might indulge in to ‘fix’ myself. If i don’t, I reason, it is I that will stand out from the conformist crowd and i’m not sure i’m strong or self-confident enough at this stage of life to sink into that comfortably. I hope, Ginnie, that i can be as proud and articulate about my aging when i hit 75 as you are. i like to think i grow to accept the change that happens to me as it comes–that, unbeknownst to me, i become ready for the change foisted upon me. I pray that that progression continues. At this time, the only tools I have to address the situation are prayer and acceptance…and reading more of what you wise women have to say on the subject. Thank you.
Brillant and so refreshing. From all of us in middle age, thank you.
I can so relate! My wife and I lost several cats all at once, due to an eviction many years ago, unable/unequipped to make the necessary arrangements, some were left to go feral and some went to the pound.
Four survived. One left us at fifteen years after the kind of care you describe — she was suffering and we had to let her go. Her housemate, Mr. Slim, put his paw in my hand and breathed his last one month short of his 20th birthday. He was my drinking buddy — the one that curled up on my lap when I was in my reclined getting really loaded. I always felt as though his regard for me was sort of an absolution for the way I unintentionally treated the others.
I have to stop writing now…
Really relate to this. I’m 57, a fact that I just admitted to the world in my blog profile in February. It felt great to stop beating around the bush about my age. I have the same impression as you concerning the women on The View. Barbara Walters depresses me more than she interests me now and that’s not how I want to feel about her.
When I was in alcohol treatment almost 23 years ago one of the staff told me that I was lucky that my years of drinking hadn’t ruined my looks. I was there fighting for my life and she got me off-track in my thinking for about a day. She meant well, but my god, is there no place to escape being judged on how good/young we look?