I Propose a Ceasefire

Watching guests arriving to the Bezos wedding gave me thoughts. We've slipped so for down the plastic rabbit hole that people are starting to all look the same. I propose anti-aging ceasefire.

My friend Sarah recently sent me a video on Instagram. In it, a middle-aged man says that we can either look old, or we can look weird, but we can never look young again. We did that - youth - and it’s behind us. So we can either embrace looking older or we can look like we’ve tried really hard to be young, but we can never look young again. Them the rules.

But here is another important rule: we don’t judge. I get Botox. I’m on semaglutide. Glass houses and throwing stones. I have friends who’ve had all sorts of things done and look. Listen. You do you, boo. This post isn’t about shaming people for having work done. This is just a plea for it all to stop, universally, so we can all be on the same page and we can save ourselves a butt-ton of money. Because this shit’s expensive.

And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to look weird. I don’t want to look old either, but I think that “weird” (though probably too strong a word) is kinda worse. So I’m asking, nicely, for a ceasefire. Don’t make me beg.

Can we all just stop it with the anti-aging routine?

The Elites of this planet arrived in Venice this weekend looking like the cast of the Hunger Games at that party in book two, where Peeta is handed a tonic to vomit up his food so he can go on eating. Impossibly small waists, weird clothing cut to extenuate implanted boobs and silicon booties. I mean, for fuck’s sake: Kylie Jenner doesn’t even have her own face anymore. She’s completely unrecognizable from the teenager who first appeared on our television screens after her oldest sister became famous for making a sex tape. And we watch them argue with each other over scripted drama and call it entertainment. ….Huh?

They want us to worship them. To see them as a goal and gold standard for human beauty and wealth. I say no thank you. But you do have to give it to the Kardashians. They may represent all that is wrong with our society, but they’ve turned a sex tape snafu into an empire. I just wish they’d done it by playing up our sense of self-worth, rather than by calling it into question.

But the liberal elites aren’t the only ones capitalizing on America’s low self-esteem. Have you seen the trending videos on “Republican Makeup”? It’s thick and gaudy: eyebrows like caterpillars and rosy cheeks that haven’t been properly contoured to one’s face shape. Using the same shade of cakey foundation for every skin tone. And this is supposedly a new beauty standard. ….Huh?

It’s basically psychological warfare. How are we supposed to believe ourselves beautiful when people are transforming themselves into the same mold? The same body? So that they’re unrecognizable. Here is the side-by-side photo of dog killer turned cult follower, Kristi Noem, that made my jaw drop. That’s the same person? ….Huh?

Getty Images

And I’m not just picking on women. Have you seen Tom Brady recently? Poor Zach Efron’s botched nose job? Michael Jackson? This is not a female issue, it’s just that I am a female and want to talk about myself. Me. My problems. Since I don’t measure myself against Tom Brady’s faux cheekbones, it’s not top of mind. But don’t worry men: you’re part of the problem and not immune from this discussion.

So humans of this place we call Earth, I propose that we all drop the needles and accept ourselves for who we are: flawed and beautiful. Unique in our own creation. Each one of us truly different from the next.

I didn’t want to use Botox. I was forced into it by all of my friends who were doing it and looked younger than me, even though some were technically older. Botox is now such a standard that seeing a woman in her 30’s or 40’s without it is rare. Their smile lines are deeper, more pronounced. Their foreheads crease and move with their emotions. They don’t look young, and they don’t look weird. Just…old. But that’s what we should all look like. Except we don’t.

And so somewhere in my mid-30’s, I gave up the fight and joined the crowd. My attempts at convincing my friends to not go under the needle were futile. So, here we are. Looking great but feeling a bit like a fraud. A little like a sellout to beauty standards that are discriminate, classist, racist and fleeting. It should have been harder than it was - but giving up my values in order to continue to receive the benefits of meeting societal standards was like breathing. It was easy because I’ve been doing it my whole life.

Lauren Sanchez. Stefano Rellandini / AFP via Getty Images

So hear me out. This is my plea. We should all stop. If we all stopped, we wouldn’t know the difference. We would just age (gracefully or not), and we wouldn’t be bogged down and financially drained by the effort of trying to keep up with the Bezos’s of the world. We’d just be living.

With wonky boobs. Flat butts. thin lips. wrinkly skin. And so fucking what? You know who else had thin lips? Princess Diana. Who else had a flat chest? Audrey Hepburn. Ever seen a more unique beauty than Meryl Streep? Bet you haven’t. And how did Cynthia Erivo make us fall in love with a bald head, septum piercing and long-ass finger nails? By being her goddamned self. That’s how.

And girl. Don’t even get me started on Ilona Maher. Her body?! Impeccable. Obsessed. My girlfriends and I DM each other her bikini photos and salivate. We worship at the alter of Ilona Maher because she is different, refreshing, and powerful, while at the same time fraught with our same insecurities. Instead of giving into the notion that she should look a certain way, she’s throwing it out the window.

If people like Cynthia Erivo and Ilona Maher were concerned with looking like the Kardashians, we wouldn’t know their names. They’d have faded into the background of their talent, seen as just another face in a sea of similar-looking robots. Incredible talent aside, they wouldn’t stand out.

And baby, I want you to stand out. I want you to shine.

We cannot properly shine our own unique light onto this world if we’re altering our appearance to all look the same. I think the part that freaks me out the most is the waistline thing. Did they take out a rib? Can they breathe? It looks uncomfy, babe. Like, let out that corset, grab a slice of pie and take a deep breath.

They’ve molded themselves to create the illusion of curves, while also signaling with their bodies that actual, honest to god, curves are shameful. Fat. Something the rich can fix with surgery and injectables.

Fake butt = you have time, money and resources.

Real butt = gross cellulite and a working class job which requires sitting.

Underlying this dramatic shift in beauty standards is a classist hierarchy. If you’re living paycheck to paycheck, you probably aren’t spending money on this shit. They’ve created a way for us all to tell who is Elite, and who is beneath. The only way for our society to stop this nonsense, is to stop playing their game. When we play their game, we lose. If we refuse to play, we win.

I will quit the game and lay down my sword in this fight against aging. Right after you do. You go first. Once you’ve waved the white flag, I’ll cancel my Botox appointment and join you in this peace. Go on now, don’t be shy. Put down the needle and slowly walk toward me with your hands up. It’s going to be okay. Surrender and I promise, I will too. You’re just going to have to trust me.

We can all shine, I’m just generous enough to let you go first.

Remember, stay difficult and always question authority.