Treading Softly into Age

2014

Why can’t we celebrate aging? Like we celebrate children. Why can’t our wrinkles be badges on our faces that tell stories of our long lives? To be respected for surviving turbulent relationships, deaths in families, and failures in life and still coming out alive. We are all one! We all have insecurities and battles to fight.

I am not immune!

“You look younger than your age” became my new “you lost weight.”

Yet I am so against this lopsided compliment. I mean, who can ever defy aging? It’s not possible. Yet I took it smiling boastfully.

I worked out for the wrong reasons: to look younger rather than to be healthy. The reason behind the workout is essential in consciously manifesting. Your thoughts resonate in your body!

I believe both plump and thin women are beautiful.

I wanted Botox to ease the frown lines that formed while fighting life’s many hardships, yet I see no shame in having wrinkles.

I read articles about how to look younger, as I smeared retinol all over my face.

I write plenty about how conformity lessens our ability to be who we truly are.

I fight every day to be who I really am without any of these armors, yet there are days when I succumb.

I am not immune!

The thing about being human is the fact that we age; we have pale skin, wrinkles, no time to work out, memory loss, moodiness, and stress. With these also come authenticity, genuine compassion, and kindness to oneself and others; they have physical marks on our faces too, but they come in crow’s feet from laughing in our full lives, from memories of raising our children, making a home instead of a house and from those moments when we realize that empty praise denies us our pride of surviving our long-lived lives.

Today, I try to look in the mirror with my perception of beauty and not that of others. On days when I am tired, and my eyes are puffy, I linger longer and take it all in with kindness. I am beautiful!

I don’t panic as much when strands of grey hair start overtaking the dye of 3 weeks ago. I don’t run to dye it back so quickly. I stay with it for a while and look more kindly at those strands that witnessed loss and heartache.

I sit on the couch without the armor of a cushion strategically placed to hide my bulging stomach. I let my bulge make itself present and try to feel comfortable in my own skin.

I stopped using wrinkle creams and don’t smile boastfully when people compliment me for looking younger. I quickly point out that being kind is more important.

I fight to love myself one day at a time.

Abeer N. Kashmeeri

Originally published on Substack, November 3, 2024.