Glance through any form of media – television, magazines, newspaper ads – and the message is clear: we must take a preemptive strike against aging by using any number of potions, peels, lasers, and surgeries.

A brief story from real life: I visited a department store make-up counter before my wedding last year (note I was 26 then) to pick up the some of the basics for the big day and before I knew it I was being offered anti-aging cream along with another, specialized ointment to address the wrinkles the cosmologist had noticed forming at the corners of my eyes. She went on to warn me about other areas of my face that were gaining crease lines and would turn into wrinkles soon if I did not start on an age-defying skin care regiment. When I declined to purchase any of these magic liniments the cosmologist appeared dumbfounded.

I don’t think her reaction was due to money lost on the sale (since I had not bought make-up in over five years, I had accumulated quite the tab just sticking to foundation, blush, mascara, etc). I think it was my lack of fear that threw her for a loop. After all she had held up a magnifying mirror to point out areas of concern. Couldn’t I see the crease marks? Didn’t I know they’d get worse? 

What is frightening to me is the thought of my body not aging with me; to grow to be a stranger in my own skin. I want some one to look at me  when I am 70 – really look at me – and as I tell my story, see my words reflected by the creases on my face, the cracks and calluses on my hands, the uneven pigment of my skin, the tough soles of my feet, my sagging breasts, and the youthful yet wise gleam in my eyes. I want people to know that I have laughed in the sun many times in my life, that I have squinted, that I have cried, that I have walked barefoot on grass, dirt, and rocks, that I have raised children of my own, and that I am proud. I want people to look at me and see that I have lived a rich life. I want people to look at me when I am 70 and see me. I want people to acknowledge that I’m growing old and  to respect me as an elder.  I want to feel beautiful in my own skin. Along with that, I feel the need to mention that I am terrified of the sun damage I have done to my nose and hope that I get off the hook without skin cancer in 40 years. I’ve learned the importance of keeping my skin hydrated in the arid regions of the southwest I’ve called home and to take care to apply a good slathering of SPF to all visible skin before going outside. However, my concern for my skin as I age stops there.

Some may argue that at 27, I am too young to be writing on the topic of aging; I beg to differ. Cosmetic companies spend a great deal of money on advertisements targeting women in my age group – those women who have not yet begun to show the tell-tale signs of age but who soon will.  If you are wondering why I chose to address aging in relation to women verses men, it’s because American society has created a strong gender bias on the matter. Celebrities are a wonderful illustration of this. As men age, they are often regarded as more dignified, mature, and distinguished and can still be considered attractive, in fact some are regarded as more attractive the older they get. Aging actors still get lead roles: the sex scenes, the action (a few names to prove my point: George Clooney, Sean Connery, Paul Newman). Aging actresses go from leading seductive ladies to the the leading lady’s mothers, the executives, the politicians – ie. the roles without sex appeal; or they simply fade away, appearing in fewer and fewer films (a few more names: Meryl Streep, Susan Surrandon, Glen Close). But it is not just Hollywood that sends this message; a quick look at the marketing demographics for companies selling anti-aging products reveals that it is women, not men, who they expect as customers. And that brings me back to why I – at 27 – have a very valid reason for writing on the topic of aging.