Isn’t it interesting that when we talk about aging it’s really all about what happens to the physical body after 50? Guess what, we start aging the moment we are born. And a lot of it is really good stuff, what with the talking and the walking and the discovery and the joy. Inevitably mixed in are the pesky disappointment, heartbreak, adolescence and fucked up relationships, but hey there’s a lot more positives than we give credit for. I understand we all have it differently and I grew up in the luxury of privilege with the skin color that would pretty much keep me safe throughout my life (with the exception of that night when I was 17 but that’s a different essay).
My point is — collectively the aging process is based on what goes wrong with us, not with what goes right. Hell, if we are going to focus on what goes right, what would all the advertising executives do? How would those poor guys make a buck? How on Earth would they convince us all that we are actually sub-par and in need of the latest cream (It only costs $125 per ounce!) or worse yet, in need of an injection or a face fix via the knife (where the end result might make us look good, but just so we know may make us look freakish, or possibly like a swollen post-surgery patient for the rest of our days, but thank God it’s available because that is so much better than a few hard earned lines).
59 is the day for me today. So I have survived 59 years of aging. As you can see in the pictures above, my face has changed quite a bit. In all honesty I could have posted an “I woke up this morning, have no makeup on and have placed the camera in the worst possible light to capture all my lines and flaws” shot, but I’m not quite that mature yet. You get the idea. This was my face, and is my face and as it goes I’m okay with both. It seems one of the main things you can take from these photos is that my hairline has filled in and I no longer dress like a Mormon.
So as I venture out into my day, one that is blessedly filled with sunshine and warm temperatures, I am grateful for all 21,535 days I have opened my eyes, stretched my arms and legs and wondered “What the hell is going to happen today?”
Tricia Schwaba May 2, 2020