People around my age especially the ones who already have their own families often neglect themselves whether on purpose or not. It’s very much understandable that vanity takes the backseat when you have three kids who could drain all the remaining youth out of you. I should know—sometimes just staying home for a day with my two naughty nephews is enough for me to age on a cellular level.
While it’s generally acceptable for middle-aged people who have children to be a bit slack on the looks department for obvious reasons, it’s a different story for us single women in our forties. People will not be as forgiving only because we don’t have any excuse.
I may already be at the age when I give zero f*cks on what people say about me and almost unapologetic about the person that I am, but taking care of myself is a personal choice. After all, self-care is not vanity. Self-care is self-love.
Vanity aside, I try to look good as much as I could. I spend a good half an hour in front of the mirror every morning doing my “rituals”. It isn’t right to go and tell myself that I don’t give a rat’s ass on how I look anymore because anyway, “I’m getting old”.
I don’t want people to look at me with pity and say to themselves: “No wonder she’s single!”.
I take care of my hair—cover the grays if needed, because going “grombre” may look good on some but not on me (and frankly, not on the majority of women).
I may need massive doses of collagen to fight gravity from pulling down my face, but I will not stop trying.
I may unabashedly parade around the house with my tummy jutting out, but I still watch what I eat.
I always had a set of eyebags even when I was younger, but I fight dark circles as fiercely as I could with a good skin routine and enough sleep.
I get a manicure and a pedicure because getting old doesn’t automatically mean Nosferatu nails.
I set an appointment with the dentist twice a year for oral prophylaxis because I don’t want them to think that I’m into chewing tobacco now.
I still wax my legs because I don’t want to be mistaken for a Russian weightlifter when I wear shorts in public.
I know I can’t go out wearing those tank tops like I’m the eighth member of Momoland, but I still want to rock a bodycon dress when I want to.
Doing all of these doesn’t mean I’m trying desperately to look younger or counteract aging. I don’t intend to compete with women in their twenties, hell no. It’s more about looking and feeling good about myself at my current age. See, just because one is getting old, doesn’t mean she had to stop wanting to be attractive.
We all have heard it: “I’m giving up. I won’t fight it anymore!”—people in their mid-forties to fifties just throwing the towel. This was perhaps because they were clinging to how they once were. I noticed this surrender most from people who were actually good-looking when they were younger. They find it hard coming to terms with the fact that they are no longer as pretty or thin as they were.
I have this friend who was once a print ad model and for most of her life, she’s what you’d call beautiful. She enjoyed a fair share of admirers and popularity within her peers.
Not that she’s unattractive now, but since hitting forty, the changes that were gradual then has become so obvious now. She gained weight, her hair started graying and some wrinkles and droops started showing in her face that it threw her in a pit of depression. Now she has told me she’s giving up and letting father time take the wheel. While we are not on the same boat because for me at least, it’s too soon to let go, I understand why she’s conceding.
Looking at my pictures from seven years ago when my double chin is nonexistent can be quite depressing. But while it is what it is, I can’t just do nothing about it. Embracing aging doesn’t mean neglecting how you look because that will be just wrong. It’s more about having a better awareness of yourself and knowing what’s good for you.
So forgive me if I ain’t gonna stop taking care of myself anytime soon. Anyway, someday I will be too old to even care how I looked. Until that day comes, I will try to keep pushing the envelope.
It’s no longer about looking young, but more about still looking good even as I age.
While it’s generally acceptable for middle-aged people who have children to be a bit slack on the looks department for obvious reasons, it’s a different story for us single women in our forties. People will not be as forgiving only because we don’t have any excuse.
I may already be at the age when I give zero f*cks on what people say about me and almost unapologetic about the person that I am, but taking care of myself is a personal choice. After all, self-care is not vanity. Self-care is self-love.
Vanity aside, I try to look good as much as I could. I spend a good half an hour in front of the mirror every morning doing my “rituals”. It isn’t right to go and tell myself that I don’t give a rat’s ass on how I look anymore because anyway, “I’m getting old”.
I don’t want people to look at me with pity and say to themselves: “No wonder she’s single!”.
I take care of my hair—cover the grays if needed, because going “grombre” may look good on some but not on me (and frankly, not on the majority of women).
I may need massive doses of collagen to fight gravity from pulling down my face, but I will not stop trying.
I may unabashedly parade around the house with my tummy jutting out, but I still watch what I eat.
I always had a set of eyebags even when I was younger, but I fight dark circles as fiercely as I could with a good skin routine and enough sleep.
I get a manicure and a pedicure because getting old doesn’t automatically mean Nosferatu nails.
I set an appointment with the dentist twice a year for oral prophylaxis because I don’t want them to think that I’m into chewing tobacco now.
I still wax my legs because I don’t want to be mistaken for a Russian weightlifter when I wear shorts in public.
I know I can’t go out wearing those tank tops like I’m the eighth member of Momoland, but I still want to rock a bodycon dress when I want to.
Doing all of these doesn’t mean I’m trying desperately to look younger or counteract aging. I don’t intend to compete with women in their twenties, hell no. It’s more about looking and feeling good about myself at my current age. See, just because one is getting old, doesn’t mean she had to stop wanting to be attractive.
We all have heard it: “I’m giving up. I won’t fight it anymore!”—people in their mid-forties to fifties just throwing the towel. This was perhaps because they were clinging to how they once were. I noticed this surrender most from people who were actually good-looking when they were younger. They find it hard coming to terms with the fact that they are no longer as pretty or thin as they were.
I have this friend who was once a print ad model and for most of her life, she’s what you’d call beautiful. She enjoyed a fair share of admirers and popularity within her peers.
Not that she’s unattractive now, but since hitting forty, the changes that were gradual then has become so obvious now. She gained weight, her hair started graying and some wrinkles and droops started showing in her face that it threw her in a pit of depression. Now she has told me she’s giving up and letting father time take the wheel. While we are not on the same boat because for me at least, it’s too soon to let go, I understand why she’s conceding.
Looking at my pictures from seven years ago when my double chin is nonexistent can be quite depressing. But while it is what it is, I can’t just do nothing about it. Embracing aging doesn’t mean neglecting how you look because that will be just wrong. It’s more about having a better awareness of yourself and knowing what’s good for you.
So forgive me if I ain’t gonna stop taking care of myself anytime soon. Anyway, someday I will be too old to even care how I looked. Until that day comes, I will try to keep pushing the envelope.
It’s no longer about looking young, but more about still looking good even as I age.
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