A few weeks ago my twenty-two year old daughter mentioned to me that she had never seen anyone as afraid of aging as I am. AND she was worried I had passed this down to her. I was completely taken aback by what she said. I did not realize I had ever portrayed someone who was scared to get/look old. But then I examined myself and my habits and it really got me thinking.

I mean, I do dye my roots faithfully every month. I got my first grey hair in grade 9. My best friend noticed it and pointed it out during Science class. I left class and ran to the bathroom to check it out in the mirror. I was completely freaked out. I think I pulled it out, I don’t remember. Greying prematurely runs in my family and unfortunately I inherited those genes. And ever since that moment in junior high, I have been anti-grey hair, on myself anyway. I do think it can be flattering on other people, even other women but it will never be for me. At this point I’ve got it down to a science, I could probably dye my roots with my eyes closed.

So there’s that. I refuse to go grey. Then there’s my fascination and obsession with wearing makeup. Which kind of just evolved over time. Typically when girls enter the preteen years they start experimenting with makeup and it snowballs from there. I think for a lot of females, they could probably look back and say they wore the most makeup in junior high and high school and then opted for more natural looks as they got older. For me it was the opposite. It was like I was a later bloomer.

In high school I barely wore makeup. I was all about the idea that people should like (or love) me for who I was and not how I looked and though I put effort into how I dressed and sometimes into my hairstyles, makeup was not for me. My Gramma would say to me, Carla put some rouge on your cheeks, your face is so plain. And she was right, but I didn’t. I wore foundation usually because I had pimples and felt it helped cover them up and maybe mascara and that was it. Eyeliner, unheard of. Lipstick, never.

I was not very popular with the opposite sex in high school and really only had one semi-serious relationship in those three years. Which lasted six months if I remember right. And when I look back now, I honestly think that had I worn makeup and maybe grew my hair long, I might’ve turned some heads. But I didn’t. And in those years when I would see other girls in high school who seemed to never be without a boyfriend, I was thinking what am I doing wrong.

So then fast forward through my twenties when I wore minimal makeup probably largely because I had no spare time for such indulgences. My first baby was born when I was 24, the next at 26 and then my third baby a month after my 30th birthday. Those years were all a blur and makeup and looking good was at the bottom of my list of priorities.

But then in my thirties I reached that point in my life where I knew I was done having babies, and started to feel like I had a little more time for me. I grew my hair longer, at least to my shoulders and for me having always been a short hair person, it felt really long. Not only did I grow it longer, I finally learned how to backcomb it and style it. My hair is very fine and thin and without some backcombing up around the crown of my head, it just falls very flat. I had actually been on the verge of chopping it all off again when a coworker heard me complaining about how flat and blah my hair was and she insisted I not cut it but instead backcomb it to floof it up. She explained how to do it and later how to curl it.

And that’s when my hair was born. Thanks Hannah! That was approximately 15 years ago and I have grown it out even longer now and I still backcomb it every morning and curl or put waves in it. Hairspray is my best friend.

So now back to the makeup thing, yes it’s true I will not take out the garbage without at least eyeliner and some lipstick on. And yes, if it’s the weekend and I have things to do around the house, including working out, I will apply eyeliner on my unwashed face just so that I can like what I see in the mirror, until which time I actually wash my face and then put my face on. I will not facetime anyone without makeup on, not even my own family. I will definitely not go anywhere in public without makeup on, I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a spoon. Was I nervous the first time Clint stayed over and I knew I’d have to wash my face before bed and then face him makeup-less in the am? Damn rights I was.

The thing is though, I just don’t have one of those natural beauty faces. I know I don’t and I’m okay with that. My complexion is slightly ruddy and without foundation on, the area around my nose and mouth is very red. And my eyes are smallish. Some women do look completely so much better without makeup, I realize that, but I’m not one of them. If I could pull it off, I would. To me, putting on makeup each morning is fun, it’s not a chore. I love the difference I see with each addition to my face. Foundation to smooth out my complexion, highlighter/bronzer to contour what I can (still learning that part), blush on my cheeks to add that rosy haze, eyeliner to bring out my eyes, mascara to make my lashes look twice as long as they actually are, and voila!

And then there’s my fashion sense. It’s not that I purposely try to dress younger, to look younger, it’s just that I refuse to conform to the rules of what a forty-seven year old should dress like! I don’t want to look like an old lady. I also don’t want to appear as though I’m trying to look like a teenager, but just somewhere in the middle I suppose. I always joke that my age is still thirty-seven because I remember that time in my life as a bright spot, physically anyway. And I think I’m kind of stuck there. But what’s wrong with that right? I mean there’s not that much of a difference between thirty-seven and forty-seven. I’d rather people mistake me as being younger than older that’s for sure.

So does all this boil down to me being afraid of age, being afraid to age? I guess possibly. That’s what my daughter surmises from it anyway. It’s true I don’t want to get old. I see the physical changes that come with aging. The wrinkles and the sagging skin. I think it’s mostly that. Some people would say growing old is a luxury that not all people have as they die when they are young and I get that. I do understand how precious life is. I would just prefer to die old with no wrinkles and no double chin.