"What's Your Face Ritual?"

Some friends of mine got me a gift card to a spa as a going away present and yesterday was my appointment. I went in for the Mini Escape package which included a 30 min. massage, pedicure and facial. (All felt great. Thank you girls!) But while getting my facial the woman performing it asked "What's your face ritual?"

"What?" I asked.

"Your face ritual. What is it?" she repeated. All I could think of was a bunch of men in loin cloths dancing around my face, chanting...

She saw I was clueless so she tried to explain "I mean what do you do to your face every day?"

"Oh, nothing" I said.

"Nothing?!" she exclaimed. "Not, like, nothing-nothing, right." she quizzed. "I mean you wash and moisturize right?"

"No" I said. "I mean sometimes I wash it quick in the shower..."

(Silence.)

"Well you don't want to look 50 when your 40 do you?" she asked to which I shrugged and thought to myself "Ah whatever... that wouldn't bother me".

So she went on to give me a whole lecture about how if I keep up with this neglect I might get wrinkles, etc.

I went home laughing, told Rob about it, and we got talking. The whole "You don't want to look 50 when your 40" thing is an interesting statement because, think about it. What she was really saying is that "you don't want to look your age do you?" And my response is what would be so bad about that?

When did we decide that aging was so horrible? We fight against things like "laugh lines". Why would I want to hide something I gained because I have laughed so many times in life that it has left a permanent mark?! I have literally had so many joyful moments that my face is forever changed. That's awesome! I don't want to hide that!

Don't you want to get older and wiser? I do. You are beautiful because of your scars and winkles. They are a testament to what you have been through in life. The saying isn't "I avoided the storm" it's "I weathered the storm". It makes me think of teak furniture. It starts as this pretty lush wood color the first year or so that it sits out but then it turns an ashy grey color but it NEVER looses it's strength. It's solid as a rock year after year through bright sunny days and long winter storms. I want to be like a piece of teak furniture: grey but solid as a rock.

I wrote a poem about two years ago that I'd like to share with you. It's titled "My Breasts" and it's not a crude poem by any means, just an honest dialog about aging (but obviously if you're uncomfortable with the title than you'll probably be uncomfortable with the poem).

In closing, this women was VERY nice but I did feel saddened by her point of view. Please don't be afraid of aging. Embrace it! It's made you who you are!


My Breasts
By Christian Abell
(July 9, 2006)

My breasts are sagging. They hang pretty low…
Gone are the days of perky fullness with rosy-pink nipples.
No, now they droop ever lower and are colored in more of a brown shade with traces of light purple from stretch marks.


But this does not bother me. I wear them as a badge of honor.

Sure, sometimes it feels like I have to practically roll them up just to cram them into my bra cups.
And sure, when I lay on my back no longer are there two glorious peaks but more like a couple of rolling hills (rolling almost completely under my armpits!)


But this does not bother me. I wear them as a badge of honor.


What was once very firm to the touch now sort of just squishes… And what was once new and fresh and vibrant now seems, in a way, old and spent.
I’d be lying to say that I’ve never caught a glance of myself, naked, in the mirror and sighed a little… Or at times have felt slight twinges of self-consciousness…


But in the end, this really does not bother me. I wear my breasts as a badge of honor. For they represent something wonderful.


They represent my journey as a woman, for I am now a mother.
They sag because they once swelled with milk for my little ones, so dear.
To the outside world they seem inadequate and in need of fixing…
But they are mine. They are who I am. And I am comfortable with them.
I am a much wiser woman than I was when they were perky and I wouldn’t want to go back.


I wear them as badge of honor for they represent something wonderful.
All of my dreams came true the day my breasts began to sag.