I go through this thing every winter for the last few years now where I become fixated on the signs of aging I see on my face.
Winter settles in, as do the deeper lines, and I think to myself maybe it’s time to do something about it. I begin looking into fillers, or maybe even an all out face lift.
Multiple factors keep me from going all the way with this. The cost, the downtime, the fear of a mishap, and maybe worth mentioning, even a little bit of self love.
I cycle through the possibilities and all the factors and eventually before making a firm choice to fill or not to fill, to lift or not to lift, the warmer days arrive chasing away the winter doldrums.
With the changing of the seasons, the warm sun quickly perks me up and while this fair skinned Irish/Welsh girl isn’t an all out tanner, it certainly adds a healthy glow. As the humidity returns it makes for a natural plumping of some of those lines causing me so much concern, and with my pretty blonde beach hair, the memory of my cosmetic woes start to fade.
Now I’m not trying to imply I turn the clock back ten years each summer, just that I give myself over to a vibe that has me not so hung up on changes that naturally happen through the years, and that is made a little easier by the fact that I truly do look (and feel) a little better in a warmer, dew kissed kinda climate ☀️
That doesn’t mean the year won’t come that I eventually go for it. I’m teetering on the edge of scheduling an appointment as I write this.
Would it completely break the budget? Not really, but would I need to give up something somewhere else as a trade off? Definitely! Do I want to do it bad enough to do that? Questionable.
Fillers wouldn’t cost me any vaca time so that’s good, but a lift sure would. And boy do I struggle with giving away any of my days to unnecessary, brought about by my own choice, recovery time. Precious moments are slipping away and there’s only so much time off to go around. So there’s that!
Speaking of time slipping away, how pissed off would I be if something went so wrong that I gave up all my time. For what? Tighter skin??
It would suck bad enough if during a potentially life saving medical procedure I was to succumb to the risks of anesthesia, though I would do so peacefully knowing I lived my best life and loved those I love with all the love I had to give.
I might not rest so easy on the other side knowing it was of my own doing
If I weigh out more life to live on one hand vs looking slightly younger on the other …Do they really even compare?
Listen if it happened to Kanye’s (Ye) mom, it could happen to anyone! And don’t talk to me about odds ….I birthed a baby with Down Syndrome at the ripe ol’ age of 19. Look up those odds …
Ok, well nobody’s going to die from some fillers, right? Probably not but they could go horrifically wrong. I’ve seen people with wayyyy deeper pockets than mine have some pretty shitty results, and then again I see plenty of my own friends who seem to have stopped time in its tracks and they look A-MAZING!
So there is that, but we are talking about my fears right now, so yeah….let’s discuss what could be a botched job. I mean it’s my face!! My face for better or worse.
The first thing everyone sees. The face my children know and have watched change through their lifetimes. The face they’ve kissed, the cheeks their little hands have held. It’s the face my lover wakes up to, and kisses good night.
Wrinkles and lines and all, it is a kind face, a soft face, more often than not a smiling face, my face.
I haven’t always spoken so lovingly of my face. I hated it, along with so many other things about myself.
I was a damaged little girl, and grew up to be a broken young woman. I survived abandonment and abuse through my toddler years and even when I was safe, and loved, being kept warm, and fed, and given all I needed to technically thrive, that trauma left its mark. I navigated it my entire life.
One of the deepest scars it left on me was self loathing.
I’m 5 or 6 years old, I catch my reflection in the mirror. I look away quickly. I can not stand to linger on my appearance for too long. I think I’m so hideous. I don’t know how anyone can stand to look at me.
That was my reality then. My reality now? I look at little me. I see this beautiful child with her spray of freckles, and her turned up nose. She is as perfect as any little girl could be. It’s not her fault she wasn’t kept safe.
So yeah, It’s taken me a long time to get here and I’m not so sure I’m willing to risk this face just yet. This isn’t a firm stand, the winds of change may one year blow me over to the other side. Also please know this post musing about the pros and cons has zero judgement on anyone else’s choices.
And let me continue to keep it real by adding I’m not so au naturel as to not continue the posting of pictures taken in good light and with only the very best angles.
Self love and all, I know puny eyelashes and non existent eyebrows when I see them! A good mascara and eyebrow pencil goes a long way 😉
And let’s not think I’m giving up my blonde crowning glory anytime soon. Gray? Is that a hair color? Never heard of it.
Huge shout out of love to the incredible hair dresser/friends this chicks been blessed with through the years.
I guess that’s that for the time being. I suppose now I’m going to go wash my face, slather on my favorite moisturizing lotion, and own my version of “51” for another day. ✌🏼