So, I was on an airplane today and spent three hours listening to a group of girls – I shall call them – drone on and on and on about appearances – their appearances, their friends appearances and the conversation included: freckles, plastic surgery, dancing and what amounts they received for their dancing, other girls and their opinions of them.  They didn’t have a single conversation that didn’t involve what someone looks like or plastic surgery. Currently, it’s about a girl who is “blonde, she’s not hot, she’s just blonde, you know, like she’s blonde”. 

Now, me, being almost 50, could see my friends and I talking about lipo, boob lifts, chin lifts, eye lid surgery, but at 20 something? What is society teaching these days? I used to be thin. I may be thin again some day, but it won’t rule my life. Yes, I have some gray hair and a few extra curves I could do without, but isn’t this my joy for living 50 years?

I eat healthy, exercise, drink water and have a healthy skin care regimen. I remember seeing my grandma at age 60 and thinking how pretty she was with her salt and pepper hair and her fancy jewelry and her smile that made the laugh lines around her mouth and eyes. I guess I grew up in the era of older and wiser, and curves made you beautiful.  

Hearing these girls talk, reminded me of couple I currently go to church with who I went to high school with and I’m amazed at one man’s wife. She looks like a 12 year old boy in figure and has a head full of Julia Roberts hair, and not one wrinkle. When I see this couple together, I think to myself what pressure she must be under to maintain this 12 year old body and to never age. What kind of a man must he really be? Maybe it’s her, maybe he could care less if she looks 12 and is perfectly manicured all the time, but I’m not her or him and I’m not judging at all but I do wonder.

As I sit and listen 2.5 hours now, I’m saddened to think these 20 somethings feel the need to continue to surgically enhance what God has given. To think they were attending a wedding recently where the bridge had a chin lift, her boobs done, her eye lids done and had surgery so she did not have to wear glasses or contacts any more. I’ve been told I look better in my glasses, sexier even. How’s that for almost 50?

I’ve been thinking about my daughter who is also a 20 something and just had her first baby. Those first few pounds came off fast, but I wonder if she is struggling with her body image as movie stars, TV Shows, other mommies and Hollywood are all talking about losing all that baby weight six weeks postpartum. If you have enough money you can even have all that extra baby weight removed during a C-section and have that tummy lifted so as to not have that sagging skin. I look at my daughter and think, wow, look what your body created over the past 39 weeks and now you have this tiny human. I look at my daughter and see her heart above anything else.  

I keep thinking about these girls behind me and what aging will do to their already poor self esteem. I may be slightly overweight – but I overcame an eating disorder.

I may have laugh lines under my eyes – but they show how happy I’ve been and the joy in my heart.

I may have frown lines around my mouth – but they show sorrow and hard times which have made me a stronger person.  

I have stretch marks from my daughter, probably cellulite on my legs, but I don’t take the time to look for it. I may have extra weight in my mid section, but that keeps me from buying a belt to keep my pants up!!

Yes, there are days I look in the mirror and frown at what I see, but don’t we all? Would I change anything about myself, maybe. Would I risk my health by having multiple surgeries to get that Barbie doll figure? Nope.  

Am I worried about what my husband thinks? At times, but not enough to change a thing about myself.  

I wonder when we became a society that truly cares more about what a person looks like then what is in their heart. When did the only thing that matters is what someone looks like and not what they are going through. Hurts happen, joys happen, scars happen. Isn’t it more important to learn about a person’s life then who their plastic surgeon is?

I listen to these girls behind me and wonder what their faces will show someday and all I can come up with is this – they certainly had money to buy what they didn’t want anyone to see.

To me, that’s just sad.

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