I noticed yesterday that it is becoming more difficult to smile. Hear me out on this one.
It's not that I'm less happy than usual. It's that physically it feels more like a chore to force my face into a happy position. Have my cheeks gotten bigger? Perhaps. I examined myself in the mirror and smiled a big, thousand-watt smile. It was tough. And suddenly I saw wrinkles. Loads of them.
I didn't have any before graduate school, and now the regions around my eyes are completely inundated with deep wrinkles, almost folds. I tend to think women with smile lines and crinkly eyes appear lovely--they've clearly enjoyed their lives and never once worried about plastic surgery, a la so many celebrities of our day.
I just read an opinion online that said this: "Don't believe the hype: plastic surgery is misogyny practised on a surgeon's salary. Why is it so hideous for women to have wrinkles and, God forbid, expressions? Why can't they age disgracefully and embrace the coming of the crone?"
Why indeed. While it may be difficult to see myself with a more serious expression, or with wrinkles all around my eyes when I do succumb to a deep belly laugh, I hope I am viewed as someone (with big cheeks) that enjoys my life and embraces the journey my body takes. Bring on the Crone! Well, okay, let's experience the Queen phase first, then we'll deal with the Crone.
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