When I take the metro I often watch the women around me. I observe how they are dressed, their hairstyles and the look on their faces. Obviously, I think about their age. When I look at a woman who is younger than me I think "I am never going to look like her again" and then when I look at an older woman I wonder how will I look at her age. I think about what shapes beauty and whether it lasts. Obviously I think of aging.
In a time when older women can be fit, active and succeed, why should I be afraid of aging? As time passes why do I worry about changes if when I think of older women that I know and admire, all I see is their class and grace?...
I started writing this post before attending the Women's Congress in Warsaw on 15 September where I saw the documentary Miss Representation.
The picture is now sharper to me, I understand more. The film made me realize to what extent, almost subconsciously, the model of perfect beauty and youth influences me when I look at myself and other women.
I could say it's the media that promotes ideals I don't agree with, I could say that I value the heart and the intellect more than the looks (and I do), and I know age is just an etiquette and I would never let anyone judge my professional value on looks but... The truth is that there is always that moment, that incidental slip, that instinctive (though culturally acquired?) look and comparison.
And I need to be aware of that, embrace naturality and imperfection even more.
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