Maybe it’s the 3 year pandemic with nearly 7 million (confirmed) deaths and many people disabled by long covid, the climate crisis, having chronic illnesses or simply being in my mid forties, but I’ve been thinking about aging a lot lately.
Up until a couple years ago, I had a highly elaborate skincare routine of washing my face with soap and using Aveeno as an all over body lotion. Then a friend who has been part of a MLM for awhile gave me some samples of skincare stuff and things for my birthday, which were okay but nothing spectacular and also hella expensive if I decided to buy them for reals. As a sort of compromise (to her and myself) between my old school routine and the really fancy stuff, I decided some start buying a couple creams and potions that were more reasonably priced while still making all the bold skincare claims. I’ve found that they’ve made little difference on my dryish but mostly fine skin, but I also like them so keep using the stuff because it makes me feel more like a grown up. I don’t really believe the anti aging stuff but also don’t judge people who are fully into it; we all choose what to spend our money on and I’m sure a lot of people judge me for the 120+ dresses I own. But I also don’t think we’re going to reverse aging any time soon, and nor should we.
The pandemic caused a lot of people (including me) to stop dyeing their hair and grow out their grey, and similar to the skincare stuff, I respect the individual choice, whatever that may be. I loved having bright red and purple and black and other dyed hair colours, but having the salt and pepper look now also feels right to me, and I think people are finally starting to believe I’m in my 40s after years of thinking I was younger (and taking me less seriously because of it). I think that having strong grey haired women (whether regular people I follow on twitter or celebrities) showing off their natural hair has helped this positive change, as for so many years in places like Hollywood there has been the patriarchal perception that grey haired men are dapper as hell and can be love interests to people of any age, while grey haired women are old ladies, whether wise or crones, they’re not usually dating the 27 year olds anymore. That may never change on a grand scale, but I like to naively think we may be slowly shifting away from that.
I’ve had constant reminders about being old and tired but experienced an interesting one on Wednesday night when Jeff and I drove to Calgary to see Frank Turner at MacEwan Hall, our first indoor pandemic rock show, in which I had the conflicting emotions of having fun while simultaneously being repulsed by the thousand people in a crowded room not wearing masks, except for a couple people. I also hadn’t realized that what I thought was a show with the Interrupters opening and Frank headlining was actually a show co-headlined by both of them. On the downside, it meant Frank played a shorter set but on the upside, he played first and we don’t really know the Interrupters so just left after that and went back to the hotel and watched a baseball documentary while eating snacks, because why not. Similarly for last year’s Calgary folk fest, we had the good sense to stay in the hotel closest to Prince’s Island Park so we could come and go from the site as much as we liked, if we needed a real bathroom, a snack, a shower etc. I don’t know if that’s a sign of getting old or just getting better at enjoying concerts in our own comfortable way.
I started thinking about this last week when everyone was posting their first selfie and most recent selfie and I found a few from 2007, doing my best sultry look after suntanning on my apartment balcony in Red Deer. I was perhaps a bit more adorbs and less tired at 28 than I am at 44, but I don’t lament the aging, as I recognize all the life experience that has come along with that.
At 75, I am healthier than I was in 1975 — the year Crohn's Disease suddenly arrived. At age 28. Fortunately, my employer — Dance Freight Lines — continued paying my complete salary for the full two months that I was hospitalized.
Crohn's then struck my brother, then his son, then my son Alan.
The suicide of my wife Jeanne — and mother of my two children — struck on 13 September 1983.
Never taking on the role of "victim" has made my life, and (I hope) the lives of each person I am honored to know, a source of great strength and resilience.
Yes, exactly! I’m in a similar place right now. I’m seeing my 45 yo face sag and it’s harder to recover from tiny injuries. Like you, I stopped dying my hair, but I think I may throw in a few lowlights so I don’t mess up my pretty grey streak. But what’s more, is the social pressure to look younger. All the fillers and Botox EVERYWHERE is very oppressive and depressing. I’m not going to puff my wrinkles. Yes, sun spots are a thing. I’m still having a hard time embracing this free spirit, while seeing my face sag, while others fill and inject their way to a creepy kind of “youth.”