I was at an awards ceremony recently and was introduced to a rather well-known lady who had obviously had so much facial surgery/botox/fillers (delete as appropriate) that it was rather like talking to a mannequin. At one point in the conversation, I was convinced her agent had whisked her away and replaced her with her waxwork from Madame Tussauds. It was terribly disconcerting trying to have a conversation about the state of culture in the United Kingdom when all I really wanted to ask was, “What on earth have you done to your face?!” And more importantly, “why?”
Genuine body dysmorphia is a terrible affliction, as are the disorders that can accompany it; anorexia and bulimia can be life-threatening, and have a devastating effect on the families and loved ones of those who succumb. But I cannot help but fear that more and more men and women are falling foul of the constant media pressure to conform to a set idea about what is considered beautiful, women in particular. Of the roughly thirty thousand cosmetic surgical procedures performed in the United Kingdom every year, ninety three percent are performed on women. God forbid a woman should be allowed to grow old gracefully.
I think one of the reasons an obsession with youthful appearances is so alien to me is that I have always been attracted to older men. When I was twenty, my first partner was in his forties. I have always been attracted to experience, wisdom, and a body that exhibits those traits is far more attractive to me than someone so obviously trying to turn back the years on the clock. Not that long ago, I bumped into a man I have had a crush on for years. He is now approaching seventy and is currently far more attractive, in my eyes, than he was when he was younger. His white hair and beard, his numerous faded tattoos, his scars, his laughter lines and wrinkles all portray an interesting life. Which he has undoubtedly had. Age does not always bring with it wisdom, granted, but I meet far more wise older people than I do teenagers. And when that wisdom coincides with someone who is obviously entirely comfortable in their own skin, it can be intoxicating.
You only have to flick through the pages of any magazine or newspaper today to find a multitude of faces nipped, tucked, pulled, squeezed, sucked, prodded and plucked almost beyond recognition. Ozempic face is practically omnipresent. Turkey teeth abound. Hair transplants the new norm. What on earth has happened to us that, as a society, we not only find such bizarre practices normal, but they are positively encouraged? Growing old is a privilege not afforded to us all. I have lost many dear friends in their teens, twenties and thirties. In my humble opinion, signs of ageing are a badge of honour. You have stretch marks? Congratulations. Wrinkles? Good for you. White hair? Beautiful. You have made it to old age. How wonderful is that? It far outweighs the alternative, I can assure you.
