Reflections on Aging and Appearance

Lessons from the patina of an antique chest

An antique chest sits at the foot of our bed. The surface, once smooth, is somewhat crackled.

The chest shows its age, but it’s weathered the years pretty well. The hinges still work to open the top. The small creaky rollers still work, although moving the chest is slightly harder with them than with larger, more modern ones.

I like the way it looks — a chest with history. I have no desire to refinish it or change it the way it looks.

We celebrate the wear and aging on the surface of furniture. We call it patina and think it even adds value to old furniture.

Why don’t I feel the same way about myself? My skin, once smooth and tight, is somewhat crackled and loose.

My face shows its age, but all in all, I’ve weathered the years pretty well. My moving parts still move, although they don’t move as fast or as far as they once did. My feet are a bit more wobbly — actually, quite a bit more wobbly.

I’m working on liking the way I look — a person with history.

After years of highlighting and coloring, I’ve finally embraced my gray hair. But skin is another story. We try to hide the wear and aging of our surfaces. We call it wrinkles and brown spots and think it detracts from our appearance.

I do celebrate my age. I’m very grateful to have these years. I’m very grateful for my relatively good health.

But I must confess, I don’t admire the appearance of age as much as the appearance of youth.

Why?

The intellectual me knows that appreciation for the beauty and vibrancy of youth doesn’t negate the beauty of aging gracefully and the wisdom and experience of maturity.

I am a work in progress — seeking to grow in self-acceptance.

I would love to be able to look at the chest and say, “Hey, Chest, look at us with all our age! There’s not a single thing I’d change about our appearance.”