Invisibility is a superpower, right?

As the calendar edged towards February, I realized I still had a Christmas photo as my Facebook profile pic. It was time to update. Simple, right?

Not so much, it turns out. It’s more challenging for a couple reasons these days.

First, there’s COVID. To date, I’ve managed to avoid contracting the virus, meaning I’m not getting out much. Plus I work from home, so I rarely wear “real” clothes or makeup. Hell, taking a shower counts for grooming these days. So I’m not exactly headshot-ready too often. 

But the main reason it’s hard to take a profile pic I’m happy with is because I’m aging. Well, duh. I’m turning 58 soon! But what I see in the mirror and in a photo don’t align. Do I really look like THAT?

Yes, I really do. But the more important question is, why do I care? In my brain and heart, I know that every single day is a gift and growing old is a privilege that I have today, and maybe only today. I’ve lost way too many people in my life way too soon, so I’m well aware that aging is something to celebrate.

But why is it so hard for a woman to age in western culture? For me, it’s mainly because we’re viewed as a commodity. A woman’s worth is heavily based on the pleasure we give others—on the beauty we reflect out. And in this world, youth equals beauty.

I know that my friends don’t view me as a commodity, but in the dating world, in the workplace, even just walking down the street, older women are basically invisible because superficially we no longer have value.

While I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t miss getting cat calls on the street, I obviously have some measure of my self worth attached to my looks. Otherwise I wouldn’t be having this conversation with myself. And admitting this makes me a little sad. 

It’s like I’m having a never-ending internal debate on an external reflection.

I have so much more to offer now with my experience, perspective, and wisdom. I’m a better person than when I was younger. My worth to the world should be rated higher, not lower.

As women continue to build their own earnings and influence, I hold out hope that things will evolve. As a friend recently shared with me, when The Golden Girls series launched, Betty White’s character in the show was 55. This is the same age that Carrie Bradshaw is in the SATC reboot, And Just Like That. Maybe this means how we view middle-aged women is changing for the better. 

But on the other hand, a recent study showed that on dating apps, a man’s desirability peaks at age 50, while a woman's desirability peaks at 18 and then declines throughout her lifetime. So have we really come a long way, baby?

That’s debatable. While I’ve chosen to not experiment with Botox or the many products marketed almost exclusively toward women to retain their youthful looks (and thus, their relevance), I’m struggling to accept my gray hair, another societal pressure with which men aren’t burdened.

As a feminist, these internal struggles are both frustrating and frankly, embarrassing. My time here on planet earth is a blip on a blip of a blip. And worrying about patriarchal society norms is where I choose to direct my energy? What a waste of time. 

All this from just trying to update my profile pic. Sheesh. 

In the end, all I can do is just put it out there—my filterless, imperfect, older but wiser self.

Looking ahead, I’ll work towards more self acceptance and love each day, wrinkles be damned. I’ll continue to be grateful for my health and active lifestyle, which is way more important than superficial societal values women feel forced to subscribe to.

And I’ll work to promote and celebrate my peers—the stronger, smarter, established women with whom I surround myself. I see you, sisters. We’ve got this.