I woke up with a nice take in my mind about beauty. Come to think of it, it seems to be less and less true that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, given the similarities and the boring predictability of the media-imposed model young (but also cougar-ish) people must follow in order to be considered attractive or even acceptable in the eyes of their peers or the people they fancy.
I'm so happy not to be young and in dating hell in these days you couldn't believe. I thought the media and peer pressure was bad enough when I was a teen or in my 20s - I lived in a much more conventional place then, that's true, while now I am in an "anything goes" zone that I cherish.
Then plastic surgery was a necessity for people who had been disfigured in accidents: only a few, ancient Hollywood beauties like Rita Hayworth or Marlene Dietrich were rumored to have used procedures to alter or improve their features (one had taken two centimeters of hair off her forehead; the other had pulled off her molars to achieve that "hollow cheeks" look). The best known way to disguise or change your face was the celebrated plastic masks in the 007 movies. The first time that I was made aware of the possible use of plastic surgery to alter your features was when my mother saw a movie with Liz Taylor and Helmut Berger, "Ash Wednesday", in which Liz's character went under the knife to look younger and rekindle her marriage.
Today The Monster is everywhere. If looks can kill they surely will. I have gone through my transition to mid-life with my face unaltered. I am not perfect; there are some features of my face that I like, as my eyes and my lips. I wish I had gotten better genes for hair and nose in the lottery, but, hey, that's life. Unlike many, who put their narcissistic fears and cravings first, I am fully aware that cosmetic surgery is an industry - and its first and foremost goal is making money, not making aging or dissatisfied people happy. This is a fight against gravity we are talking about. The most effective way to avoid sagging skin or body parts is floating in a missile around the Earth beyond the pull of gravity. Gravity cannot be fought or fooled on a permanent basis: It will inevitably pull down whatever it is that one puts money, effort, and pain into pulling up. In this tug of war, the losers are your skin and your wallet. Plastic surgery is an addictive business. Like with drugs, you will never experience that first elating feeling again, and will spend the rest of your life (and cash) chasing it. When you willingly alter a feature, then - unless you have been disfigured; reconstructive surgery I do understand and would undergo - the others are off, so you have to start having work done elsewhere too to balance your act. And you are not fooling anyone - whether you are young or (especially) older - only yourself. A plastic looks is instantly spotted. Even comparatively minor procedures as Botox, Juvederm, Restylane etc. injections are destined to fail and produce lumps, lazy eyes, sausage lips or new sag if interrupted. Yesterday I watched in horror one of these procedures on TV - I was mesmerized by the willpower and the masochism this woman narcissist (middle-aged, not particularly striking) was exhibiting when a two-centimeter needle was being repeatedly thrust under the layers skin of her face. She squeezed a stress ball - she wailed in pain. The doctor behaved like someone who took sadistic pleasure in squeezing pimples. I was horrified: and the final result was barely noticeable. How many more times will this woman and thousands like her go under in order to keep the illusion going? And this is NOT someone who worked in show business, where such procedures seemingly are included in contracts. Such is the power of peer pressure, or the need to keep your man from exerting his wandering eye (as if such a specimen was such a trophy to keep), the push to look not necessarily better but more compliant with the diktats of the media. I have heard to my utter astonishment that men and women who re-entered to workforce after some unemployment time went under procedures to look younger and more employable. I thought there were some anti-age discrimination laws in effect! But the powerful tentacles of the cosmetic-diet-exercise-at-all-costs industry are long and their brainwashing persuasive.
I understand the need to feel good about yourself and not wince when you look in the mirror. I am very old-school: been taking very good care of my skin since I was 12, have always used good quality cosmetics in moderate amounts - after all our skin is like hide, keep it moisturized and groom it and it won't fall apart all of a sudden. Grooming and being presentable I understand. But it stops there. I want to look like me, not like the model of the month, young or cougar (a term I find hugely offensive, btw. What is a man like Hef? A coyote in maxipads?) I am aware of the fact that no matter what I do, I will never have my 18-year-old skin or energy ever again. And that's OK, because nature has to take its course.
We were not born to disfigure ourselves in order to feel good and look in the waters of our narcissistic pool with satisfaction or to cater in any moment to the need of displaying every moment of our life in the media. I hate having my picture taken, I hate the constant superficial scrutiny of everyone.
Recently we were dining with a number of friends. Half the table was busy documenting our outing for posterity. I found it so disconnecting and sick, a real sign of the times. Another thing that narcissism, self-centered or vicarious (showing off our kids, our gadgets, our clothes, our cars etc.) has taken away from us is the convivial spirit - once people got together to dine and exchange interesting ideas on the meaning of life down to politics, friends, healthy gossip and whatever else. Now it seems that people get together to twit or FB every single move they make for those who aren't there.
But this is another story. Maybe the next post.
I'm so happy not to be young and in dating hell in these days you couldn't believe. I thought the media and peer pressure was bad enough when I was a teen or in my 20s - I lived in a much more conventional place then, that's true, while now I am in an "anything goes" zone that I cherish.
Then plastic surgery was a necessity for people who had been disfigured in accidents: only a few, ancient Hollywood beauties like Rita Hayworth or Marlene Dietrich were rumored to have used procedures to alter or improve their features (one had taken two centimeters of hair off her forehead; the other had pulled off her molars to achieve that "hollow cheeks" look). The best known way to disguise or change your face was the celebrated plastic masks in the 007 movies. The first time that I was made aware of the possible use of plastic surgery to alter your features was when my mother saw a movie with Liz Taylor and Helmut Berger, "Ash Wednesday", in which Liz's character went under the knife to look younger and rekindle her marriage.
Today The Monster is everywhere. If looks can kill they surely will. I have gone through my transition to mid-life with my face unaltered. I am not perfect; there are some features of my face that I like, as my eyes and my lips. I wish I had gotten better genes for hair and nose in the lottery, but, hey, that's life. Unlike many, who put their narcissistic fears and cravings first, I am fully aware that cosmetic surgery is an industry - and its first and foremost goal is making money, not making aging or dissatisfied people happy. This is a fight against gravity we are talking about. The most effective way to avoid sagging skin or body parts is floating in a missile around the Earth beyond the pull of gravity. Gravity cannot be fought or fooled on a permanent basis: It will inevitably pull down whatever it is that one puts money, effort, and pain into pulling up. In this tug of war, the losers are your skin and your wallet. Plastic surgery is an addictive business. Like with drugs, you will never experience that first elating feeling again, and will spend the rest of your life (and cash) chasing it. When you willingly alter a feature, then - unless you have been disfigured; reconstructive surgery I do understand and would undergo - the others are off, so you have to start having work done elsewhere too to balance your act. And you are not fooling anyone - whether you are young or (especially) older - only yourself. A plastic looks is instantly spotted. Even comparatively minor procedures as Botox, Juvederm, Restylane etc. injections are destined to fail and produce lumps, lazy eyes, sausage lips or new sag if interrupted. Yesterday I watched in horror one of these procedures on TV - I was mesmerized by the willpower and the masochism this woman narcissist (middle-aged, not particularly striking) was exhibiting when a two-centimeter needle was being repeatedly thrust under the layers skin of her face. She squeezed a stress ball - she wailed in pain. The doctor behaved like someone who took sadistic pleasure in squeezing pimples. I was horrified: and the final result was barely noticeable. How many more times will this woman and thousands like her go under in order to keep the illusion going? And this is NOT someone who worked in show business, where such procedures seemingly are included in contracts. Such is the power of peer pressure, or the need to keep your man from exerting his wandering eye (as if such a specimen was such a trophy to keep), the push to look not necessarily better but more compliant with the diktats of the media. I have heard to my utter astonishment that men and women who re-entered to workforce after some unemployment time went under procedures to look younger and more employable. I thought there were some anti-age discrimination laws in effect! But the powerful tentacles of the cosmetic-diet-exercise-at-all-costs industry are long and their brainwashing persuasive.
I understand the need to feel good about yourself and not wince when you look in the mirror. I am very old-school: been taking very good care of my skin since I was 12, have always used good quality cosmetics in moderate amounts - after all our skin is like hide, keep it moisturized and groom it and it won't fall apart all of a sudden. Grooming and being presentable I understand. But it stops there. I want to look like me, not like the model of the month, young or cougar (a term I find hugely offensive, btw. What is a man like Hef? A coyote in maxipads?) I am aware of the fact that no matter what I do, I will never have my 18-year-old skin or energy ever again. And that's OK, because nature has to take its course.
We were not born to disfigure ourselves in order to feel good and look in the waters of our narcissistic pool with satisfaction or to cater in any moment to the need of displaying every moment of our life in the media. I hate having my picture taken, I hate the constant superficial scrutiny of everyone.
Recently we were dining with a number of friends. Half the table was busy documenting our outing for posterity. I found it so disconnecting and sick, a real sign of the times. Another thing that narcissism, self-centered or vicarious (showing off our kids, our gadgets, our clothes, our cars etc.) has taken away from us is the convivial spirit - once people got together to dine and exchange interesting ideas on the meaning of life down to politics, friends, healthy gossip and whatever else. Now it seems that people get together to twit or FB every single move they make for those who aren't there.
But this is another story. Maybe the next post.
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