Letters to the Editor
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Beauty is a funny thing
I am also beautiful. When I was younger, I was a high-achiever, introverted and socially awkward, which got me branded a stuck-up bitch. Girls hated me. Boys ignored me. I thought I had some kind of anti-male death ray hidden somewhere in me, and put my energy into other things. The whole dating thing seemed hopeless.
I'm now 40, and seriously ill. It's all completely invisible, but it has some interesting effects. I haven't had a tan in nearly twenty years. One medication rounds out my cheeks and hips while another has been stripping off fat at the rate of about 5 lbs every two weeks. A good friend whose opinion I trust says that the only place I where show my age is my hands. My face especially is very young. Women half my age have more wrinkles than I do, especially the sungoddesses.
I've also learned some social skills, so life is very different. Unpleasantly different. I've become what I was once labeled, because it isn't just men hitting on their fantasy of me, it's men thinking they're entitled to that fantasy, and getting ugly if they don't get it. I've learned not to smile or make eye contact in public. It's been an interesting experience.
LW, the attention you got wasn't a good kind at all, and you're right that it wasn't even about you. Sure, it can be ego-affirming, but not in a good way. Cocaine gives you energy, after all, even if it does some really nasty crap to you in the process.
What you have now is withdrawals. It's not going to be fun, but botox isn't the answer and you know it. The answer, I think, lies in understanding that you've been mainlining the emotional equivalent of cocaine for quite a while, and now you need to learn to eat properly and exercise. It's not a high, but it's a lot more stable and sustainable.
I was super-lucky in that I didn't become attractive in this way until I was old enough to put it into perspective. This isn't me being special. This is my medication having side effects, and a lot of men are going gaga over it. That's how unhealthy and crazy this whole beauty thing really is.
So yes, you're losing your high, but go back into everything else about you and see what's really there. Play harder. Work stronger. Feel good about what you can create and sustain. Spend time with family and friends. That's what lasts, and it can last long after our bodies have gone to dust.
I've known a lot of women who have experienced tremendous surges in energy and productivity when they hit their 40s. I've also known women who have gone the botox and surgery route. I think all of them have gone through the same angst, and have chosen between acceptance and denial.
Trust me when I say that the surgery crowd is nowhere near as happy!
Put down the cocaine. Rip open a pomegranate, and let the juice stain your fingers as you eat, then go for a walk and see what autumn is doing for your neighborhood.
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She may never have "coasted" on her looks...
but there's no way she didn't use them to her advantage in any number of situations. Sometimes it's as small a thing as knowing that your looks will get you out of a jam, or smooth things over when you screw up. Plus, there's the "halo effect": we assume the beautiful must be exceptional in other ways, evidence to the contrary be damned. My sister's a hot babe (I make this observation in a non-creepy way), and has been able to skate through a "man's world" on many occassions when a less attractive woman would not.
LW obviously defined herself largely through her looks. Now that those are going, she feels her identity is slowly eroding. And that's a scary thing.
Still, I think 43 is a little late to become a person of substance with more to offer. Better visit that pimp-dressing plastic surgeon on E! He'll fix you up.
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Develop your depth and compassion
and you will project another kind of beauty into the world.
I won't want to be unkind, but as a career woman 10 years older than you who was never blessed (cursed?) with your apparently astounding beauty, I can assure you that no matter how valuable your considerable intelligence and talents may be, your beauty propelled you further along in your career than you would have made it were you not physically blessed. I'm not saying that you aren't intelligent or very good at what you do, just that if you think your looks haven't made a difference for you all of this time you are fooling yourself.
You know that this is true. And that it why you are frightened.
From your letter, you don't sound like you are a person who is innately kind. Quite possibly because you have never needed to be. Stop thinking vicious thoughts about other women. Just stop. Try understanding and developing the power of wisdom, kindness and compassion in your personal life and in your career, along with your other talents. You'll feel better.
I truly do wish you well.
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Seriously, folks?
I realize getting old is a universal rude awakening, but man, a lot of these letters are just depressing-- not the aging part, the myopic-obsession-with-surfaces part. Is it just me, or is the Baby Boomer generation perhaps a little extra nuts about the aging process?
I may be young and naive, but when I listen to my grandmother, I don't come away thinking, "Thank God I'm not too old to attract men anymore!" (If that's your main yardstick for self-worth, I think the problem started before the wrinkles.) What gets me is the thought that at some point I will never be able to run again, that even brisk-paced mobility will become physically impossible; or that someday at least one part of my body will start to ache and not stop. Then I sort of forget this, because I still have that luxury, but sometimes I remember and it makes me try a little harder to be less of an a--hole and just be grateful I can still sprint to catch the train in time.
I don't presume to know what it's like to be forty. Just... really, the absence of crow's feet? The intrusive curiosity of strangers, that's what I'll miss most?