A Middle-Aged Selfie - JT's Tales From The Trail

Jill Thomas is a rambler, traveler, and storyteller with a big laugh who thinks its funny how life leads you right where you need to be, however the roundabout path. 

A while back, a friend posted a joke on social media about the shock and horror one feels when we unexpectedly find our camera phone in selfie mode. I cracked up. It was nice to discover I'm not the only one.

When this happens to me my critical self-talker says, "This can't be right. My face couldn't possibly look that saggy, lined and chubby." 

If our Sole Sisters were twenty-somethings, our feeds would be awash in selfies. Those who grew up with an omnipresent, instant gratification camera available at all times have mastered the art of the self-portrait. They live in a world that hosts thousands of their selfies.

I didn't grow up with this technology. I wasn't taught to admire myself or how to flawlessly execute a flattering picture. Also, our society doesn't celebrate aging, so it's unsurprising that I have yet to embrace the selfie. 

I hope that one of the plus sides of growing older is becoming less focused on our flaws. I hope to look at pictures of myself with less critical eyes and am actively working on doing so.

Today my mantra is that no matter how old I think I look today, in a few years, I will look back and go, 'What on Earth was I complaining about?' So, I know I shouldn't spend one more minute worrying about that.

I've always disliked pictures of myself, even when I was young and pretty. Even then I scanned every photo with a critical and judgemental eye.

But today when I look at a picture of myself from high school, I no longer want to improve myself. I marvel at how gorgeous I was and regret how I didn't see it. Even if I dislike my haircut, outfit or facial expression, I am compassionate towards my younger self. How could I be mean to her? With this perspective, I may learn to give my middle-aged face more grace.

Yet it remains difficult to embrace selfies.

I avoided pictures altogether in my thirties and forties. If you were to scroll through the our family vacation photos from this time, you would think my husband traveled alone or with our kids after tragically losing his wife. Every trip I told myself I would be fit enough for photos on the next one. 

In my early fifties I read an article about how sad it is (for you and the people who love you) not to have pictures of you during all stages of your life. This triggered something in me at a time when maturity was finally helping me accept my face.

Now, I continually remind myself that I look how I look and that it is okay. But it’s not easy. I still struggle with accepting my body and face, deleting more pictures of myself than I save, but I try not to shy away from cameras.

I must continually remind myself that our bodies and faces are meant to transform. In times of love, I've grown fatter, my waist expanding with the joy of intimacy and the excitement of being loved. My husband and I used to joke "You're a baby. I'm a cat. When we're happy we both get fat."

In times of turmoil, I've shrunk, eroded by loss and sadness. The only exception to this trend is when the prospect of upcoming wedding pictures motivated me to lose thirty pounds. I gained every ounce back (plus some extra) after my wedding.

Selfies may or may not be a positive societal trend for women, young or old. I can't imagine I would have cherished being photographed so often and publicly as a young adult.

In researching this post, I found an article saying young women seeking plastic surgeons to look better for selfies have increased by 35% since 2016. Also, the self-promotion aspect of taking a selfie might be a sad emblem of our self-interested culture.

Perhaps, the negative psychological impacts of thousands of selfies sparked younger generations to initiate social movements urging us to accept our bodies and faces in their endless glorious multitudes of diversity. I am enjoying following along with this trend on Instatgram #bodypositivitymovement. I hope its not too late for us oldies.

A while back, the hashtag #FeministsAreUgly started to trend on social media. A few people got up in arms and decried this tired fixation on women's looks. But as it turned out, the hashtag was created by two women who were making a statement about our society’s obsession with unattainable beauty standards calibrated to white, thin women. They were asking for selfies from women of color, queer and trans women, to expand the definition of feminist beauty—and the selfies they got.

Of course, not every selfie is an act of political demonstration against misogyny and the self-hatred it brings with it in tow. But posting a candid photo of yourself, with all your glorious, beautiful, well-earned lines, wrinkles, and sagging skin, is undoubtedly a rebellion of sorts.

It's easy to shy away from the photographs because you're so busy, so exhausted, not feeling your best. It's easy to be the taker and never let yourself be in, when the world makes you feel exposed or less than. But one day, your loved ones will search for those memories to bolster their own. Those pictures, no matter how you look, are set to become absolutely precious. And no one, not one of them, will care how together you appear. They will care, very much, that it is you. And all of your you-ness will be the exact gift they very much need in that moment. Be in the photo, my friends. They are not for you! - Donna Ashworth