Why “50 is the new 30” is a bullshit idea.
This idea that 50 is the new 30 is kind of a bullshit idea. First of all, what kind of a 30 year old suffers from hot flashes caused by menopause or has to worry about wrinkles and gray hair? I am now approaching 53, and as much as I have told myself that I am fine with aging gracefully, there is really nothing graceful about it. When your chin starts sagging and the lines on the sides of your mouth start making you look like you’ve got a perpetual frown, and you can’t stand to see yourself in a FaceTime chat because there’s no way that wrinkly old woman is actually you — you start to get a little depressed.
I know there are plenty of 50 year olds who have beautiful skin and beautiful figures, I know these people exist, I see them all the time (mostly on TV and in magazines) — but, I’m sorry, they suck! They probably aren’t pure white like me and sat out every summer with the baby oil slathered on their face and body, burning themselves to a crisp because tans were supposed to be sexy. They probably like to do weird things like jog and avoid caffeine and ice cream, and they probably never had a day of stress in their lives. Otherwise how could they be so free of worry-lines?
The other day I was talking with my sister-in-law and her little boy was standing quite close to me at eye level. He stared at me and then finally said, “You’re old!” I was shocked, and then I smiled and said, “Well, you know, it’s probably just my gray hair, it makes me look older.” He replied, “No, it’s your face!”
Oh. Well. Thanks?
I know, he’s just a kid, but kids speak the truth and I’m OK with that … but not really. That vain part of myself is not really OK with getting older. I hate it when others point out certain people (usually celebrities) and say — “Wow! That person looks great, they haven’t aged at all.” As if you can only look great if you are wrinkle-free and smooth all over. It’s a subtle message that those of us who have aged don’t look that great. Actually, it’s not so subtle. And the truth is, each single year after 50, the deterioration is exponential. I can look at a picture of myself just two years ago and I look so much younger. I seem to be fading around the edges, like the photos in the movie Back to the Future. The ones that start to fade slowly until the person just disappears, which would mean that their whole existence is wiped out.
The other day, as I was following a gossipy internet article down a rat hole, I saw a link, blinking there at the bottom: 17 Celebrities Who have aged badly — of course I had to read it. I found it both disgusting and fascinating that people, including myself, are interested in gawking at photos of once beautiful icons who have gotten old. (People, it’s going to happen to ALL of us, there really is no getting around it, unless you die young, in which case, old age is really a gift!) But, there was poor Brigitte Bardot looking like one of those wrinkly dried Apple dolls, and Madonna with fake cheekbones and gaunt face and another actress who had so many surgeries she was beyond recognition. It made me sad. Both that women are not allowed to look like wrinkly old grandmas, and that actresses are so driven to maintain their youth that they resort to all kinds of surgeries that only make them look strange.
That’s the problem with aging in our culture. In other, wiser, indigenous cultures the older people are given more value, their age gives them wisdom. In our culture, the less young you are, the less valid, the more you disappear. It’s as if you don’t exist.
And then, who’d want to be 30 again anyway, if 50 is the new 30? At thirty you’re still all wrapped up in your image, your job title, your social standing. Or, if you have kids you’re neck deep in kid drama and can’t hardly see straight. Nah! I don’t need to be 30 again.
I’ve decided to try on a new mantra. 50 is the new Wisdom Goddess decade. I will tell myself and others that now that I have turned 50 I am claiming my hard won wisdom and will know myself as the earth Goddess that I truly am (and, really all people are) but at 50 women are just reaching a special pinnacle. At 50 a new kind of beauty is born within us, and a new wisdom is ripening, and we can share these gifts with the world. I will tell myself these things, and on good days, I might actually believe it.
