Recently I have noticed something peculiar about my 40 something peers – many seem to have braces and are getting teeth whitening in the quest for a perfect smile. When did this happen? I guess, in retrospect, I did see it coming. I was a gen-xer and child of the 70s. I was also working class, which meant one word: snaggletooth. Braces were a luxury, one not afforded to us. I had an overbite and probably a crossbite, but you made do. The only perfect teeth I saw as a kid was my grandmother’s, in a cup, by her bedside. Perfect teeth just weren’t the norm. When I get fed up with the chasing of perfection today, I sit down and watch 70s television. There we were as God made us: yellow toothed, curvy with a little tummy and very few above a B cup. We couldn’t hide, you had good genetics or you found another source of strength. God just didn’t give with both hands back then.
Now, however, it seems we can have it all. We can be wrinkle free, with a beautiful smile, a Double D cup and a perfectly flat stomach – all at the age my grandmother was passing down her famous Sunday roast recipe to her grandchildren.
I struggle with this expectation, especially as I reach my 50s. At a recent dentist appointment I was told I needed a slew of work – in the dentist’s words I should “start saving my denaros.” I kind of tuned out as he rambled on about receding gums, cracked fillings, veneers, crowns and, yep, braces. I still don’t understand why I need any of this, my teeth work fine, thank you. Why is everyone so bothered that I am ok with my mouth the way it is? I think his boat payment must be due soon.
Even at the nail salon the other day while just getting a simple manicure – no color, just buffed, I was asked if I had ever thought of getting lash extensions and permanent makeup. Um, I just wanted my cuticles cut, but thanks.
At my dermatologist, while getting a mole checked out, I was offered Botox – just to keep me “looking as young as I feel”.
And as I am getting AARP materials in the mail, I am simultaneously getting plastic surgery postcards.
When did it become expected that as soon as I start to age, I will frantically try to be one step ahead of it all? That I will have nips and tucks and shots and extensions. All for what? I have seen the 20 somethings out there – they are cute and they mean business.
Even talking with people my age has become a challenge. I was talking to a woman I had not met before and when she left, I turned to my friend and said I didn’t think she liked me very much. My friend replied “oh no, that was just the botox, she can’t move anything above her nose.” Oh.
As I ponder middle age and how I want to enter into the next phase, I am not sure this is the route for me. I am all for bettering yourself and if it makes you feel good then go for it. But please don’t judge me when I choose to age and own every one of my wrinkles and grey hairs. I have seen my saggy skin on my legs in downward dog – I don’t need double D breasts next to that.
What is perfection anyway? Is it so we feel good about ourselves physically, that we are never rejected, we are always admired? I think I will forgo perfection for authenticity. That will be my quest in the next stage of the game. Oooh, I think there is a rerun of Charlies Angels on again.