Why I'm participating in a beauty contest

There is no wrong way to age.

I saw the ad on Instagram, inviting women over 40 to take part in a contest in support of the National Breast Cancer Foundation. I rarely click on ads, but something about this one made me stop and look again. “Are YOU fab over 40?” it asked, and my first impulse was to answer it with an enthusiastic, “yes, I am!”

Without thinking about it any further, I filled out the entry form, answered the questions, and downloaded a few photos from this summer. It took me less than ten minutes from beginning to end, and I didn’t even find out exactly what the contest entailed, or pause to consider why I was doing it. It simply felt right.

It wasn’t until later that day that I took a closer look at the website. It confirmed what I had suspected: the women featured chose a different approach to aging than I have. But it didn’t bother me - on the contrary, it made me extra happy that I entered the contest.

Here’s the thing: aging is a minefield for women. No matter how we do it, we will get criticized. We are either trying too hard or not hard enough; clinging to youth too desperately and “disfiguring” ourselves in the process, or going the other way by “giving up”. We are ridiculed if we get bad surgeries or fillers or too much Botox, as if it’s our fault and not the fault of the doctor or provider.

I don’t blame women for undergoing cosmetic procedures. For many, their careers or livelihoods depend on looking a certain way, not to mention the constant pressure women are under in a society that judges us by our looks. We all just do our best, trying to navigate a world that has always been stacked against us.

I have chosen a different path: to age “naturally”, aka not using any procedures or Botox or hair dye. I have several reasons for it:

• I’ve been a puppet of the patriarchy for decades. I bought into their rhetoric that women are competition, that feminists are men-hating bitches, that the way the world is nowadays is right and just. I’m not participating in their games any longer, and I refuse to change my appearance because they tell me I should.

• I don’t want to waste any more brain space on my appearance than I already have. For years I was a calorie-counter, obsessive weigher, angry exerciser who purely exercised for weight loss or as punishment for eating too much. I thought about my body from the moment I woke up until the moment I went to bed. Little else had room in my head; the obsession was all-consuming. It used up almost all my energy, brain power, and peace, and that cost was way too high. Since I stopped worrying about how I look I’ve gained so much: a profound joy of movement; peace; time; money; energy; and enough brain power that I can use for more interesting things than my appearance.

• My career doesn’t depend on my looks.

• I’m happily married, meaning I don’t have to navigate the hell that dating seems to be these days. I don’t blame anyone who’s insecure when repeatedly being judged by how old they look. I would be insecure as well.

• I’m not doing it all anymore. I learnt to trim my own bangs because I didn’t want to go to the salon every month. Most days I wear no make-up because I can’t be bothered to take it off at the end of the day. Women have to do so much every day, and I’m done with trying to do it all. If I want to go for a long walk with my dogs every day, write, read, go to work, watch several episodes of Gilmore Girls, eat halfway decently, and get eight hours of sleep, some things got to give.

Does that make me “better” or “morally superior”? Of course not. Every woman deserves to choose what she wants to do with her body.

Our bodies, our choice.

I’m obviously not brimming with confidence about the way I look every single day. I’m only human, and I’m not immune against the constant bombardement of smooth, wrinkle-free, and heavily filtered faces that are everywhere. I have my insecure moments, comparing my wrinkles to other women’s, noticing my body changing, wondering when I will cross the divide from looking young(ish) to decidedly middle-aged.

But that’s why I entered this contest. Part of the prize is to appear on the cover of New Beauty magazine, which mostly features actresses, models, and celebrities. How amazing would it be to see a regular woman on it? Someone with grey streaks in her hair, deep laugh lines, and a regular body?

I say often how much I love growing older. Because the wrinkles, bigger breasts, and grey hair come bearing gifts: they bring with them a new wisdom, deeper level of understanding, and a profound awakening to one’s own power. Despite what society might think about my “letting myself go”, I truly feel more beautiful now than I ever have before. The emphasis is on feel: I feel my body in a different way these days. I’m more aware of what she does for me, what she needs, and how grateful she is when I treat her right. For most of my life I ignored her needs, or worked actively against them: I ignored hunger pangs and satiety cues; drank more coffee instead of giving her rest when she was tired; poured thousands of litres of alcohol down my throat instead of dealing with my traumas and problems.

Now, at almost 45, with back problems and different aches and pains popping up all the time, with worsening eye sight and my hormones all over the place, I love her more than ever. How could I not? Despite mistreating her for close to 25 years, she’s stuck by me all this time. I have no serious health problems, my mental health gets better every day, and best of all: I’m more attuned to her messages now. My body helps me make decisions all the time now. My mind is fickle, susceptible to hormones or outside influences, and can be manipulated; but my body knows.

It was my body who made the decision to enter this contest before my mind had a chance to weigh in with pros and cons.
There was a pull; a deep knowing that this was the right decision. And who am I to argue with my body’s wisdom?

So here I am, in the top 10 of a competition whose name FabOver40 was the only persuasion I needed to participate in this thing. The power of words.
It continues until Christmas, with the announcement of who won being made on December 27th.

If you feel called to vote for me, I’d appreciate it. You can do so here. If it’s not your thing, that’s okay, too. You do you!