Embracing the Journey Beyond Snake Oil Solutions
Wrinkles of wisdom
When young people (definition, anyone younger than me), complain about growing older, I listen. You see, I hold the power to scare the bejeebers out of them.
If they knew what was coming, oh my —
I don’t want to be the Wicked Witch who stares back at you in the mirror. The one pointing a crooked finger, revealing the secrets of human decay with a “You’re gonna get yours” attitude. Bwahahaha!
I want to be the Good Witch that lifts your chin, looks into your eyes, and reminds you to choose your worries wisely. I hope to spare you the heartache of fighting a losing battle and encourage you instead to take up your sword, march to war, and become ravishingly lovely in your heart and soul. Remember whatever is inside your cup is what will spill out.
Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean (Matthew 23: 26, NIV)
Time and Money Wasted
Trust me, I’ve wasted enough time and money for all of us. Not that long ago, I fell for a sales pitch I’m now certain derived from a Middle Ages torture chamber.
I came to my senses after hubby and dog hearing my agonizing screams from upstairs, raced to my rescue. There I stood, red-faced, with the modern version of a medieval weapon, basically a club with spikes, in my hand.
If you’ve been blessed by missing the ads, it’s called a derma roller. You roll the spike across your face in all directions while pins painfully prick your skin. The pins are tiny, giving it the same effect as multiple paper cuts. In other words —
It hurts!
Trying to come up with a sound explanation for hubby and the dog as to why I was doing this made me realize —
There isn’t one!
Our Ancestral Sisters Were Duped Way Back When —
You know the old days when the snake oil salesmen would roll into town on a wagon with glass bottles chinking in the back? It’s no different today. While snake oil once referred to the oil or grease made from snakes for medicinal purposes, today it means “poppycock” or “nonsense.” Over time, the term evolved to mean mixtures sold as medicine without any regard to health or medicinal worth.
Well, nothing has changed except for location, they are all on the internet now. I’ve personally stooped to indulging in lotions, potions, oils, and supplements. Once I nearly bought a face planer and something that resembled spackle that fills in the cracks on your face, but then I realized hubby has all that stuff out in the garage.
As a 70-year-old woman, I’ve seen every gimmick out there. I have to tell you, just like clothing styles, some of the remedies of bygone days are coming back. Who remembers the gal in the eighties with the face exercise video? If you haven’t seen it, and you want a good laugh, take a gander. She’s not back herself, but Facebook has ads for similar programs to help you exercise your facial muscles. Frankly, I think it would work just as well to make all the faces you told your children not to because their faces might freeze.
What I’ve finally come to realize is —
I don’t want the rest of my life to revolve around how I look. I already regret the time I’ve spent on that sinking ship. When I pull away from the mirror, I remember how great my life is today.
Why is it great?
Because I have better things to do than fuss over my appearance.
Aging is not easy. There’s a reason it happens over decades, allowing us to process one wrinkle at a time. I’m not saying it doesn’t still get to me on occasion. With that said, you might find it hard to believe that if given the opportunity to go back in time, I would not.
I like myself today, wrinkles and all. What if I could be me today, without the sagging skin and other unmentionables? Sure but that’s not possible because as brutal as it sounds, decaying is making me a better person. It’s humbling, evoking gratitude that puts life into perspective.
I do still desire to be beautiful.
I want to take hubby’s breath away. When he looks at me, I want his eyes to glaze over with love for the woman who walks proudly by his side. When he sees me, I don’t want him to see the young woman he once reached for in need. No, as scary as it sounds, I want his eyes open to the beautiful woman I’ve become, wrinkles, tummy rolls, and all.
And, when I’m with my adult children or my grandchildren, I want them to find my words and heart so drop-dead gorgeous they don’t even notice I’m slowly becoming the crooked old woman in the nursery rhyme. I can honestly say, these moments have been the times I felt the most dazzling.
As for all the young women in my life with their dewy, silky skin, I want them to remember me for my kind words and deeds. I don’t want them to remember my complaints about aging. Instead, I want to help them see the beautiful woman looking back in their own mirror.
How do I plan on aging with grace?
Oh, child, that’s only possible with the help of God. Like the wrinkles that move in one at a time, it will take a daily regimen of prayer and practice. Have I got it down yet?
Not even close.
When I catch myself sighing before a mirror, I stop and then ask God to make me beautiful on the inside. I ask that He gift me wisdom, a kind spirit, and grant that my words and actions always reflect His love. That His light would shine brightly out of every pore of this shell. The very shell He provided for my soul to reside.
I pray that I can be selfless, caring for others above myself. I ask Him to break my heart for those in need and to equip me with the strength and wisdom needed to help. By then, I’m filled with gratitude, that I am graced with too many blessings to remember or count.
This practice helps me to like the old woman in my mirror. She’s trustworthy and I’ve grown to respect her character and have forgiven her many flaws. It did not happen in a day, it took decades. Oh, and I’m not there yet. I have a long way to go.
I often wonder about Sarah (Sarai) from the Bible. In Genesis 12:14 (ESV) we read that Sarai is considered to be a beauty:
When Abram entered Egypt, the Egyptians saw that the woman was very beautiful.
And yet she’s in her mid-60s. How could she be beautiful enough for the Egyptians to notice her? Maybe she was the supermodel of her time. I doubt it. I think she must have been emitting a magnificent light from within. That’s what I want, and there ain’t no snake oil gonna make that happen.
It’s wearisome to waste time watching videos of women stuffing their bodies into sausage casings called Spanx. Or worse, listening to them exaggerate the results of some expensive cream or new miracle device. I hate thinking about the conference rooms around the world with sales experts gathered around long tables, discussing how to make us believe they have the solution for age-old problems, that will be here centuries from now.
I can’t wait to see what life brings tomorrow. There are certain to be more wrinkles, crinkles, and folds. I hope to embrace each one with grace.
Deb Palmer is the co-author of “In Spite of Us- A Love Story about Second Chances.” She resides in Yakima, Washington with her husband/co-author, Sandy. Deb has published various fiction and non-fiction articles in numerous print magazines and online journals.
In addition, she writes stories with humor and purpose for Medium.