It's official. I'm annoyed with the magazine, Marie Claire. I just finished two utterly depressing articles in the May 2008 issue. One was about a 25-year-old who flies to LA and sleeps with a crush AND an engaged ex-boyfriend in one weekend then is subsequently crushed when her crush is non-committal (did her mama not tell her the cow and the milk line?). The other article was featured on the cover as, "Love Online: 'I Wasted 2 Years on a Man I Never Met.'" You can guess how that ended. I should have put the magazine down then, but no, I had to move on to "Facing the Big 3-0," a self-indulgent article by writer Ying Chu who tells us she was blessed with "some pretty good genes," but is freaking out over turning 30. Panicked by her biological clock (at 30!!!!) and a white eyelash that she "immediately plucked," Chu gets herself to a few of Manhattan's most famous dermatologists for a little pep talk about aging.
Pep talk? Did I just write that? What ensues is utterly depressing. Dr. Howard Sobel of DDF Skincare tells her that 30 is the tipping point of aging. (It's all downhill from here, ladies!). Then Dr. Dennis Gross of MD Skincare -- whom I have met and found to be pleasant enough -- tells her the wrinkles caused by sun damage are furiously working their way to her skin's surface. Sobel even offers up Botox. This is when I put the magazine down and opened up my computer. And here is my rant....
Dear Ms. Chu: Don't listen to these guys. They are businessmen in doctor coats. They are in business selling miracle creams. There is no such thing because in the end, gravity always wins. So please stop moaning about it. Perhaps it would do you some good to volunteer with needy children or travel to a Third World country. There's something about witnessing survival among horrors that will teach you to stop worrying about the "11" etching itself in between your brows.
You are so worried about turning 30 which makes me, at 35, feel as if I should be picking out my casket (I'll take bamboo, hemp lining please, it's good for the earth). Really now. Such talk is detrimental to the female sex. After all, men are not standing around their golf bags trying hard not to squint in the sun lest their golfing buddy, "Bob," will notice the laugh lines and think to himself, "oh good, his lines are more pronounced than mine. Score one for Bob!" Men know that laugh lines mean a life well lived. Scratch that, Ying Chu. Men don't think like that. They just want to get the little ball into the little hole.
Perhaps you should do a season abroad in Japan or Paris. I am told these cultures revere older women and they have been around generations longer than America. French women and Japanese women can face the fact that gravity wins out in the end and every person's butt inevitably slides its way down the leg until you can't tell where the butt ends and the leg begins. Parisians and the Japanese know it happens to everyone, even ladies' men (hello Jack Nicholson). Someday you will be 45 and you will realize that despite the crow's feet and the wrinkles, you have never felt more confident or happy in your skin. With age comes wisdom. Younger women envy this in older women. The French find it sexy.
You may choose to go to extreme means in life to maintain your youth. This is OK. But please...don't write about it.
