Nothing stays the same forever, and that includes our bods. This week we asked our team: When was the first time you noticed your body was aging!! What was that whole situation like!?!? How did you react or deal? From puberty to creaky knees and grey hairs, it’s all in here.
Heather, Managing Editor
I love this question because I spent all of my childhood and teenage years and early 20s having exactly no plan for my life whatsoever because I didn’t know you could be a woman who built a family with another woman; I never thought about the future because it was too bleak and horrifying to imagine myself with a husband. Honestly I think somewhere in the back of my mind I thought I’d just get hit by a truck or disappear into the ether or something in my mid-20s because I just absolutely could not see beyond that point. My entire future was shrouded in a Dementor cloud. Then I learned you can be a lesbian and not go to hell and fall in love with a woman and even marry her and so, at the tender age of 27, I started planning what to do with my life. At some point in my early 30s, I noticed I had crow’s feets at the corner of my eyes. I laughed so hard and so long about it that I cried and the crying made me laugh harder. My body had aged! I had made it to a place where my body was turning into a whole different body! I didn’t think I’d last that long on this planet, and certainly I didn’t think I’d find peace and fulfillment and joy and love if I had! But I did! I came out and found my way and I now had the crow’s feets to prove it!
I have managed to keep that delightfully bewildered attitude about all the ways my body is aging, except one: Last year, when I was 39, my body got started on perimenopause, which announced itself with… hot flashes. Holy cats, y’all. No amount of watching Golden Girls prepared me for waking up absolutely drenched in sweat from having night time hot flashes while I was asleep. I went to the doctor because I thought I was literally dying. She assured me that I am not. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does I can hardly every go back to sleep, even after I take a shower, because I am just spitting mad.
Riese, Editor-in-Chief
For starters I’ve had really bad under-eye circles since I was a child. I remember begging my mother to let me wear concealer when I was 11!!! Now they’ve evolved into deep discoloration with sun damage and other great stuff. When it comes to the rest of my face… honestly I think when I first noticed a difference, it was in a photo from one of the first A-Camps — I’m around a lot, so I have the pleasure of being an unaware background figure in a lot of photos, which makes for a lot of unflattering side-snaps with bizarre facial expressions. I was like “my face looks… different???” I guess your face loses elasticity and starts sagging as you age, which’s why everybody in LA sticks needles in their face. Alternately, you can look in the mirror while holding your cheeks up and think “wow, this is what I could look like if I scotch-taped my face up.” So I researched face creams, learned they were all a lie, did like 15 minutes of “facial exercises” and now have accepted that it’s fine. Also I have crow’s feet around my eyes but I kinda like those! I think wrinkles are so cute! I’ve had those for a while.
Furthermore I feel terrible the next day after drinking. TERRIBLE.
Erin, Writer
As a white woman, I know I don’t have a ton in my corner here. I’m fully aware that we age horribly and I’ve accepted this fate as penance for my ancestors’ past. I will say that the women in my family have a slight advantage to them in the way that they don’t fully look like dripping wax by the age of forty, so there haven’t been that many major changes. However, no amount of generational leniency or sleep or ice packs will change the fact that the dark circles under my eyes have been fighting for their chance to shine since I was a child. I always thought it was a little unfair that I had to look tired as a child just because of how my bones formed on my face, but I guess the rumors that life isn’t fair are true. After age 25, my dark circles craved the spotlight more than ever. Having a good decade to accept this fact, I welcome them with open arms. Here y’all go, come get y’all juice.
Carrie, Contributor
My perception is skewed here because my body’s never really aligned with my chronological age. I talk a lot in both day-to-day life and writing about how cerebral palsy forced me to grow up fast, and that’s also true physically; I’ve been creaky and achy forever. The significant changes in how my body works have thus far come courtesy of disability rather than time. I did get my first gray hairs last year, though! There’s a persistent one right in the front that I initially plucked whenever I spotted it, but I’ve come to embrace its presence on my head precisely because it does make me look older. People often assume I’m way younger than I am since I’m short and have a frustratingly open face. So the gray hairs provide a nice counterbalance and actually give me a better shot at being taken seriously in professional situations. Also, I now recognize that I’ll age into a silver fox and very much look forward to that day.
Valerie Anne, Writer
A few years ago, I spotted what looked like it could be a grey hair but actually it was white and I convinced myself it was just a really light blonde hair (I do have some natural highlights leftover from my blonde youth). I tried my best to ignore it, despite it starting at the front of my part and swooping across my face. After all, I was only 28! I couldn’t have a grey hair! (I know this is a lie I told myself; I have friends that got grey hairs in high school… I just thought I would be spared because my dad didn’t go grey until he was in his 50s.) I was doing a great job of being in denial about it, until I was in New Orleans with my friend. We had just wandered through a cemetery and we were sitting on a stoop drinking the lemonade we bought from some local children and she pointed it out. I tried to explain that it was blonde but she laughed and tugged it out and showed me it was indeed white and coarse and for sure a sign of aging. For the next few weeks, I’d make a friend pull it out every time it resprouted, but then I was afraid of that urban legend that grey hairs are like Hyrdra so I stopped letting anyone touch it. Now it’s three or four strands that still swoop across my crown like I’m on my way to looking like Rogue from X-Men and I’ve come to embrace them.
KaeLyn, Writer
I started getting grey hairs when I was 12 and now when you look closely at my hair and especially my undercut, you can see a little salt-and-pepper thing happening. I LOVE IT. I love getting older and wise. I love my grey hairs. I think it might be a hereditary thing more than an aging thing, but I truly can’t wait to be all silver and white! I love grey hair on other people, too. I think it’s sexy!
The first time I felt myself aging, in my body, was when I triggered sciatic nerve pain in my back at 25. I’ve been blessed to not live with chronic pain and it was the first time I’d experienced it and I COULD NOT HANDLE IT. I remember thinking, “I guess it’s all downhill from here!” This year I rounded the corner of close-to-forty-than-thirty and I am much more used to aches and pains and chronic health issues. That said, my attitude toward aging has changed a lot. I feel super blessed to get to live this long in this cute, soft, loving body and I try to appreciate everything my body does for me.
Alaina, Writer
My right knee cracks every time I walk down stairs. It just started about three months ago and has been the most terrifying realization that this body is not meant to last forever! Also, last week I threw out my back because I slept on my futon instead of my bed and couldn’t move for a full three days. I felt very aware of my aging body, and also realized that we are not meant to be alone, which was a hard realization. I love living alone, but my aging body is reminding me that I will continue to need help throughout my life, and living in community is one of the only ways I can get the help I will need!
I still have zero wrinkles though, and for that I am grateful to God, my mother, the continent of Africa, and the blessing of melanin.
Reneice, Writer
The first memory I have of the fact that my body had aged was when my pubes came in. It was SO uncomfortable! It also changed more about my hygiene routine than I appreciated. I wanted them gone and did a lot of stupid uncomfortable things to get rid of them, then was even more uncomfortable when they grew back in. Everyone made it seem like it was such a chill, normal thing! Years with no har, and then suddenly there’s hair and it’s no big deal! Except for me it was a HUGE deal and I hated that growing up meant your body could just be a different fucking version and experience of a body than it was before and I had no control over it. I didn’t know ingrown hairs were a thing before, I didn’t know having curly hair makes you more prone to them, I was in SO MUCH PAIN. So yeah, nothing about aging thus far has taken me by surprise as much as that did. I was far less thrown by finding my first gray pube than I was about getting my first one ever. I’m way more chill about my body doing its thing now. I’d like to think I would’ve been back then as well if I had a little more info.
Carmen, Associate Editor
The day I found my first white pube, I thought it was a piece of lint or stray string of fabric from my pajama pants. It wasn’t. I yanked it out (bad move, don’t be like me!) and then lied down on my cold bathroom floor and cried for like five minutes straight. I have no white hair anywhere else on my body that I can find. I don’t expect to wrinkle any time soon. I wasn’t ever flexible or athletic, even as a kid, so there’s no major loss there. And yet! AND YET! My pubic hair has decided to betray me. I feel young, but my vagina is throwing in the towel! This isn’t particularly “progressive” of me, but whatever — I resent her for doing so.
Rachel, Managing Editor
My body has always had a lot of quirks that make me feel like it’s older than it is; I’ve had back problems since I was in high school, I’m often in some pain from it when I go to sleep and wake up; a couple years ago I had a back spasm that left me unable to bend forward for almost a week and which led my mom, a physical therapist, to solemnly break it to me that I wasn’t allowed to have sex until it was healed. This is to say that I’ve never thought of my body as having a particularly idyllic ‘youth’ that it was meaningful to preserve. However, it’s also true that I am VERY precious about my skin to a degree that I’m embarrassed to admit to; anti-aging isn’t particularly important to me, but on some level I do feel like my many years of ministering to a detailed skincare routine means that I shouldn’t have to age like a white woman.
A few months ago, in my thirtieth year, I had had a long day — I was sleep-deprived and sick and had been crying on and off about what I don’t even remember. The point is when I went to wash my face, in addition to looking greasy and puffy and gross, I noticed crow’s feet around my eyes for the first time. It didn’t bother me, per se, but was a sort of funny cherry on top of the day I was already having: your body is frail and mortal and is starting to show it; also, crow’s feet aside, you’re old enough that you look visibly haggard when you aren’t doing well. It made me chuckle a little. The tiny wrinkles were a lot less visible the next day, when I had slept some and drank more water than I had coffee and Dayquil; now I don’t really notice them unless I’m looking. Eventually I will, and so will other people, and that will be fine too.
Laneia, Executive Editor
I practiced ballet for my entire child and teenhood. After that it was yoga and just constant stretching for the fun of it. I prided myself on being bendy with strong legs, even when I would go weeks and then months without doing any particular yoga or stretching or exercising. I knew this wouldn’t last forever, but it did seem to be lasting a very long time!
Until a couple of years ago, when I decided to start doing Daily Burn because I wanted a butt and to have my barista arms back. It was a burpee that did it. I dislocated my hip and popped it back in two swift movements and oh my god it hurt so bad and I just laid there in shock — not because of the blinding pain but because I realized, this was it. This was the reason they suggest you seek the approval of your physician before starting any workout routine! I DIDN’T SEEK THAT APPROVAL AND NOW LOOK AT ME. That hip is permanently fucked up now and it affects the way I sleep and how I stand up from a seated position! Hahahaha oh it’s neat.
Stef, Vapid Fluff Editor
PJ Harvey was 30 and I was 17 when she put out my favorite album, Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea. I remember seeing her in magazines and on MTV at her absolute most glamorous and concluded based on this very scientific evidence that my 30s would be when I would become comfortable with my body. It had to happen sometime, right? I was honestly really excited to turn 30 and leave the confusion and uncertainty of my 20s behind, until JUST NOW when I hit the midpoint of my 30s and realized my body was aging RAPIDLY AND UNCOMFORTABLY. I’ve had bursitis in my left hip since I was about 28, which flares up from time to time at the most inconvenient moments. I spent a lot of time on a cane last year due to several surgeries surrounding my fucking tailor’s bunions, of all things, and also started worrying about wrinkles for the first time in my life. I don’t smoke, I don’t eat meat, I’m never out in the sun basically ever, but now when I look at pictures of myself all I can see are the lines in my face. I dealt with this very maturely by getting bangs to cover my entire withered visage. Getting old is garbage and I don’t think I appreciated my boobs enough during my youth. Goodbye.
Molly, Writer
The day I turned 30, I looked at myself in the mirror and saw what hiking around in the sun and high altitudes with little sunscreen throughout my 20s had done. Sure, I had some wrinkles forming on my face, but I also realized I’m building a great set of laugh lines, which are my favorite. I once found a gray hair, I think that was my 21st birthday, but I haven’t had one since, and I’m really hoping my temples go gray soon because then people around here won’t automatically assume I’m a teenage boy walking toward them, but rather, a distinguished teenage boy.
Alexis, Contributor
I noticed my body was aging when I noticed most of my fat went to my hips and butt (I literally have a poem with this as the first line) and that I had pubic hair. I mostly refused to acknowledge that I had a body, so I feel like I was usually the last to know about it changing. I actually didn’t even know for sure my body was changing ’til my mom told me I couldn’t walk around naked/not fully clothed anymore when I was like twelve. There’s probably a story behind this, but I just remember not feeling embarrassed and then suddenly, horror tinged with shame. This sounds like, not good, so let me also offer this: When I couldn’t “pop-lock-and-drop it” anymore after high school/when I got my very physical job, that’s when my body really told me what was up.
Mika, Contributor
Jesus, growing up trans AMIRITE?
The first time I realized my body was changing I must have been around 11 years old? I was a late bloomer in my first puberty, but in a very Latinx blunt fashion every adult in my life was eagerly waiting to point out PUBLICLY something about my body the second something was kind of different. I used to love to take my shirt off and exist as if I didn’t have a body until the day I wore some sort of tank top to my grandma’s house and she pointed out that maybe I should start wearing a training bra to my mother Literally I was as flat as board, so I assume I probably got cold or something, but I immediately felt ashamed and wrong and like that wasn’t the natural progression of growth I was expecting. After that, I’d stare at myself constantly in the mirror post showers. I didn’t get a training bra until I was maybe 13 so I had a few more years before true first puberty hell started.
Vanessa, Community Editor
This question is intriguing to me, because our bodies are always aging, right? I guess you don’t notice as a very small child, but once puberty hits, don’t we all notice our bodies “aging”? We just don’t call it aging when you’re moving from 10 to 12, or 14 to 18, but then suddenly you’re 30 and everyone’s like, hmmm, how are you feeling, have you noticed any signs of *whisper* aging? I’m an extremely anxious fat person who has had to teach myself not to actively hate my body since age 9, folks!! I’ve noticed my body and how it changes day to day in ways I often disliked since I was old enough to realize that every other girl in 1st grade wore an XS t-shirt and I wore an L. What’s new?
I guess the thing that is new, really, is that I love the process of aging. I’m sorry to be the weirdly cheerful bitch at all times (as is my Personal Brand, so maybe I’m not sorry maybe I’m just Very Much Myself Always), but aging is great! I think the time I spent with a lot of dykes in their 70s on rural land projects in Southern Oregon really changed the way I view getting older in a very positive way. Those women were badass. They had grey hair and wrinkles and so much wisdom. They hauled wood and taught me how to use a chainsaw and tended to their gardens multiple times a day. They really appreciated what their bodies were capable of – and that was a lot – and for the most part did not resent what their bodies were no longer capable of! I don’t mean to romanticize the process of our bodies marching slowly through time toward death – I just mean to say that they always are and always have been, so why stress about it?
I miss being able to pull an all-nighter and feel like a sane competent human being the next day and I miss being able to eat dairy without feeling like I’m gonna barf, but that’s about all I miss about “my youth.” Bring on the grey hair, I’m ready! Oh my god, when do you think my pubes will turn grey?!?! I can’t fucking wait.🎈
