The Luxury of Age

I’ve been thinking a lot about skincare.

As I approach the end of my twenties, I’m paying more attention to the wrinkle between my brows that doesn’t go away anymore and the corners of my eyes that are less elastic. Every day I’m pitched products and interventions for these markers of aging.

But no matter how many creams or supplements or lasers or fillers or special facial massages the wellness industry creates, we’re all going to get old, and we’re all going to die.

I turn to author and activist Sonya Renee Taylor’s words: “It might be an absolute luxury to get to age, and I just invite us to think about the people who don’t.”

So instead of trying to disguise or augment my wrinkles or discoloration, I’m trying to rewire my brain to consider them a badge of privilege, a sign of life’s goodness bestowed upon me. What a luxury to be here for the time I have.

I’m not going to my grave looking like I was preserved in a jar. I want it to be apparent from the forehead wrinkles and smile lines that I thought deeply and enjoyed surprises and laughed with my whole face.