As I grew older, my relationship with the skincare industry seemed to become so complicated. Aging was looked upon as shameful. Why were telling me I was flawed, imperfect, and lackluster; to mask who I am? None of this reflects how I actually feel.
I’m in my 40s and you would think that I would be settling into myself at this stage in my life, especially when it comes to my physical appearance – and I think the root of it all is being able to answer for yourself: When are you good enough to be comfortable with yourself?
I’m not a fan of articles that dictate what women 50 and over should or should not wear. If you’re comfortable, then do it, wear it, and embrace it.
I remember looking at my mother’s hands and marveling at the veins that were raised up on the back of them. “I want that. I’ve got boring little patty-cakes for hands. I want my hands to have those.” I pointed to the raised veins.
I was taught to get a good education, get a good job, all while looking good, and you will be successful and happy. So that is what I did. I got married, had my daughter Alexis, bought a house and got a dog. The American dream, right?
I recognize now the importance of facing my fat, of recognizing it for what it is – the temporary state of my body, nothing more, nothing less.
Eager to please, I started dieting at age 13. I was 5’10”, only weighed 115 pounds and I thought I was dieting! Now I laugh about that, but it kicked off a decade of eating disorders and two decades of body hatred.