‘Look, don’t worry about finding a partner. I’m 38 and I just found my person! You’re still so young!’
It’s two years ago and I’m consoling a girl at a house party, after far too many shots of a blue fluorescent liquid I’m pretty sure is radioactive.
She looks at me, startled. ‘You’re 38?!’.
Her face changes – she is no longer looking for sympathy. Instead, she’s in awe, tucking invisible hair behind her ear as she exclaims ‘Girl, I need your skincare routine!’
I used to love that reaction.
After hitting my 30s, I would regularly tell people my age, waiting for the wide eyed gasp, as my small face and casual clothes confused people – always following up with the joke that I dress like a teenage boy for this very reason.
I would walk into bars, pretending to act shocked that the doormen wanted to see ID. ‘Little old me?’ I would gasp while rummaging for my driver’s licence. I paused to take in their reactions: An incredulous ‘No way!’, or a joking ‘This is fake!’
Smiling, I would take back my ID and walk in – where, in my mind, the music stopped, a limelight hit me, people stared and then everything went back to normal.
But as I started approaching 40, I realised that, while people thought they were complimenting me, they were actually insulting all other women.
By saying my features don’t match with your idea of ‘40’, you are suggesting that other women, who do ‘look 40’ are ageing in a way that conforms to ageist beauty standards. It suggests that people who ‘look 40’, look old, whereas I don’t.
And on top of that, an incredulous reaction to my age is a bit insulting to me.
In professional situations I noticed the assumptions people began to make about my knowledge and expertise. Despite being in publishing and the creative industry for 15+ years, I found people were over-explaining the simplest things to me.
Last year, in a meeting with a non-profit I’d approached to help with a campaign, the older white man on the call looked perplexed by me. On multiple occasions, he said ‘You probably don’t know about this…’ when discussing historical moments that I lived through.
At one point he explained what journalism is, out of the blue, unprompted.
‘I was alive when Diana died’, I sighed back. ‘Yes, I watched the news on 9/11 when my school closed early and sent us home’. My sighs became white noise in the meeting.
I realised that, as I am both childless and unmarried, the assumption is that I’m in my 20s – because no South Asian woman in her right mind would be 40 and not have a yawning teen sitting beside her exclaiming ‘Muuuuuum’ every time she shows off their accomplishments.
When people make assumptions, it’s tiring. I’m regularly having to prove myself.
I want to say to them: You know, this kind of stress ages you. You are – ironically – ageing me by doing this.
And aside from me, we are doing the biggest disservice to all women by classifying how an age looks according to our beauty standards.
Every time we tell someone they don’t look as old as they are, we are telling them there is a way ‘old’ looks. And, by celebrating someone’s unexpectedly youthful looks, we are giving the impression that ‘old’ looks bad.
Ageing isn’t something we should be avoiding, and it’s definitely not a competition – yet, ‘anti-ageing’ creams, supplements and procedures fill our screens and magazines. We are regularly told to remove the lines that our faces create from smiling and enjoying life.
The language used with these creams need to be contested – in fact, in the USA, the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) has had to issue warning letters to manufacturers of these products that have used false marketing about its supposed anti-aging effects.
Some things have changed over the years – in 2022, The Body Shop renamed its cream from Drops of Youth to Edelweiss as an attempt to reject ‘anti-ageing’ language in the beauty industry. It was a great step in moving away from creating shame with age, but it’s not enough.
It was only last year when a 14-year-old TikToker uploaded a video of her skincare routine for anti-ageing, leaving people perplexed about how far back she can possibly anti-age to.
The beauty industry has a lot to answer for.
Because when someone gets old, they are told to look young – and when they look young, they are told to stay that way. It scares them into buying more products, inevitably keeping the industry alive, and the rich get richer.
And that’s the biggest tactic – shame and fear.
In a recent survey from wellness brand Luvly, they found that out of the 2,000 women aged 30 and up, 12% fear that getting old will lead to societal neglect, and 11% fear it will lead to loneliness and isolation.
Three in four said they find dating more difficult with age.
Whenever I look in the mirror and feel shame or fear about ageing, I remember that I am sold the idea that ageing is undesirable. When someone tells me I don’t look old, they are telling me I’m not yet showcasing those undesirable features.
And it’s a warning – ‘You will look old, so be wary’.
I’ve now turned 40, and I will age.
But I – as well as everyone else out there – deserve to be considered attractive no matter how old I get.
My jowls, that I’ve renamed to jewels, are not undesirable.
The wrinkles around my eyes when I laugh show how much I’ve enjoyed my life.
My folds, lines and creases are abundant with comfort and love – and as they become more pronounced, they become more beautiful.
More from Metro
So, keep smiling – every line on your face is a memory of your joy.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
Share your views in the comments below.
MORE : As a single gay man, here’s how I take control of my sex life
MORE : ‘Avoid at all costs’: The wedding trend that starts your marriage off on a sour note
MORE : I want Spain to thrash England in the Euro 2024 final – that doesn’t make me bitter
Sign up to our guide to what’s on in London, trusted reviews, brilliant offers and competitions. London’s best bits in your inbox
Share this with