But this guy?
Not everyone likes him, I bet. I lurve him in his later years. I like the lines on his face, the bags under his eyes. It's character. I like.
I was at a party last summer with people I've known for 10 years and more. I've seen these women (and men) through pregnancies, through weight gain and weight loss (and job gain and job loss) I've seen them at the pool, unshowered, at the gym, walking kids to school, and on the ski slopes, out for dinner with kids or on dates, and at fancy parties in sequins. Not one face was unlined. Not one body was perfect. And I looked around and thought, My God, what a beautiful group.
Yeah, we're in our 40s. But that party was chock full of conversations I wanted to have with people I wanted to spend time with. They are damned interesting people, and it showed on their faces. I love their faces, every line, every imperfection, every smile.
I've spent some time worrying over how I looked. It's been a bit of an up-and-down thing with me. High School? Not so pretty. College? Er, didn't really have the clothes. 20s? Fat. Seriously fat. Then 2 babies and a whole lotta micro brew. More fat.
I got thin in my mid-thirties. Pretty thin. I'm not so much thin now, not perfect by any means. I don't know that people look at me and think fat either. I think my view of myself is totally skewed so I dont' trust it. I do like to be a good example for my daughter, and I also like to be active. Snowboarding legs aren't perfect jeans legs. But hell, looks sells books.
But I'm finding I care a lot less about looks. There's something about my early 40s that makes me go Fuck It.
I like that.
All together now.
But I wonder a lot less lately. I mind less that my body isn't perfect. My aesthetic sense is changing. I think it might be normalizing. And it's a bit of a relief, really.