wanted to send in this little topic to a mag, but then decided against it for fear of backlash. so i'll just put it here because this is my blog and i can write any darn thing i want here, darn it.

showing your age

i have a confession to make- i feel threatened. amidst the numerous distracting advertisements persuading women to attain a perfect body simply by buying a product or service in the papers, i came across a little report tucked innocuously in a corner, a landmine waiting to do its damage. it featured pictures of a lovely carina lau, marred only by the written word. watch it, screamed the subtitle, bemoaning the visible appearance of several wrinkles on the 39 year-old actress' face. all i could think of was that if we don't do something soon we are going to be, pardon my french, terribly screwed. what else are we headed for, in a society where middle-aged people in showbiz are not allowed to be seen with wrinkles, 40-something women look like twenty-somethings, 30-somethings look like teenagers, and teenagers seem like just precocious pre-teens? what's an average-looking 20-year old female to do? i should be enjoying this period of my life, smug that i have both youth and some money on my side. instead, i am thrust into a world where ford model and american idol finalists are several years my junior, 30 year-old jamie yeo still looks and sounds like a fresh-faced teenager and a 51 year-old celebrity looks good in a skimpy scarlet bikini. and to make matters worse, we have the emergence of the metrosexual, the gorgeous man who knows it. so now not only am i attacked on both sides of my age group, but also by the other sex. people tell me that i'm mature for my age. i believe that this is enhanced by the fact that people of the age i appear to be are acting my actual age. figure that one out.

pondering a little more on the topic, i realise that all this is due to self-esteem, or more accurately a lack of copious amounts of it. theoretically we should all be content with what we have been bestowed with, and yes i do agree that every day is a gift, compared with the pain and suffering we can only glimpse in the papers. but ever so often one feels the need to bitch unreasonably about petty things, and if i can't write on my own blog where on earth am i supposed to turn to? i admit that i am flawed, insecure and i'm not going to pretend that i'm not. i may never say it, but i certainly can write. i know one day when i'm 40 i'll be thankful for all the yoga classes and whatnot that will keep me as lithe as a 20 year-old, but i'll try to remember the time when i'm 20 and look and feel like a 20 year-old.

to any detractors out there, i know that i'm supposed to not linger on such idle stuff, that if i'm dissatisfied i should use the energy to work myself out of it, etc etc. yes i know all that. just let me publish this article in peace. i am whiny customer, aunt agony, psychologist and reporter rolled into one organism, each analysing the other. watch for the next instalment.