Saturday, July 26, 2014

Age is Just a Number

Alice has grown up in our society and listened to the rhetoric.  It is a society of youth, in spite of the unmistakable bulge of Baby Boomers who are passing through like a bull in a china shop.

So many of her contemporaries do Botox, injecting poison into the facial muscles, rendering the user unable to move her forehead or express facial emotions.
 
Others have boob jobs, leaving these foreign saline bags to permanently stand at attention, even when the rest of the body is in repose.  Equally hard to fathom.
 
Or the truly desperate ones who have face lifts or any one of the myriad procedures that are available for a price.  All targeted at rendering the woman with a face that is a blank, unmoving page, rather than one filled with the rich text of her life.
 


This whole youth thing seems so silly and trivial.  Faces are smooth while necks are wrinkled.  Ditto with hands and the skin on arms.

What happened to the pride one should feel at having made it this far?  Still filled with yearnings and feelings and the capacity for joy.  Not solely from grandchildren who harken to days past, but from friendships that ripen in the days ahead until filled with sweet juices.
 
Friendships rich in shared stories of making it through the obstacle course of life.  Why can’t that be beautiful, too?  Why can’t the lines in a face … that hint of the stories untold … be touched with gentle fingertips that trace each line with admiration rather than derision?


Our bodies are merely the vehicles that carry us through this life, this diversion, this time spent … here in this place.  Some have the misfortune of being riddled with disease or maimed, but they are still miraculous in their creation and their fortitude and sheer strength and will of survival.



It is the shallow person who seeks only the beauty of youth. Or the artificial deception foisted upon us and received justifiably with sheer disbelief.
 
And it is the genuine one who looks beyond the superficial layer, and seeks to touch the essence of the strength that carried the person this far.  Still standing.  With stories to tell that haven’t been told; feelings to share that have long been dormant; desires yet to be discovered; pleasures waiting to burst free.

To the genuine person, then, goes the prize of the “real deal” and not the cheap forgery of what used to be.
And that’s why Alice now believes that age is just a number. 

It’s not about taking advantage; or looking for money.  It’s for the pleasure of those who are not fooled by the stiff, expressionless faces; or the boobs frozen in the upright position; or the bodies invaded by hoses that suck out unwanted parts. 

Alice believes that love and pleasure and joy are timeless.


 

 

 

2 comments:

  1. so true, the ageing process is entirely natural, and while not always beautiful (specially when you think of aches, pains and illnesses) it issomething to be celebrated. And a Botoxed face just looks horrible

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  2. I wish more people can think like you. You have written it beautifully ans we must not forget you only get to live once so enjoy your life to fullest.

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