I had an interesting experience at work the other day. I know, another work story, but you might find this one interesting.
I was helping a woman with a bra fitting – making sure it fit, to put it plainly. She was an older woman, older than me, clearly monied because she was wearing expensive eyewear, jewelry and had a Gucci handbag. She carried that air of old money.
I was standing in the change-room doorway chatting and accessing the bra she had on, one that I felt was a little ‘large in the cup’ but she loved it, and it did fit. I said ‘that particular make of bra doesn’t work on me but it looks great on you’ and she laughed and said ‘different surgeons’.
It took me a moment to get it. Oh, right. Implants. She assumed. She figured all women had had surgery to ‘improve’ their breasts. It was then I started to examine her face, neck, even her stomach. Sure. She’d had it all, I realized. But in her case, it looked pretty good. She still looked her age, and she was still attractive. Her skin was wrinkled but tighter, no hanging rooster neck or unnecessary belly fat.
I do not support nor condone men or women who choose to have work done. It is not my place to judge. I do, however, worry.
I have heard young, flawless beauties in their twenties, rub their foreheads and talk about getting botox because of a barely visible beginning of a (line?). We have all seen those who have lost sight of the significant amount of work they have done to their faces and bodies, who are outright scary looking.
I remember going through a phase, probably during the time when my body was shifting from young into not so young, when I resented the women who could afford to get work done. Not because I was jealous. I didn’t want any part of it. But it upped the ante for the rest of us. Suddenly there were all these women with larger, firmer breasts, taut necks, flatter stomachs. How could we ‘regulars’ compete? And being single made things worse because men generally go for younger, and either don’t know the difference when a woman has had work done, or don’t care.
But I got over it.
There are many ways in which my body has changed since I was twenty and thirty, and it has taken some time to come to terms with these changes. Perhaps I’m fortunate enough to have naturally good skin. I stay active, keep my muscles toned and keep myself relatively fit.
Or perhaps I’m fortunate enough to finally be happy with my body and myself just the way I am.