Because I'm not just pregnant, I'm old and pregnant. Yes, yes, 40 is not that old in this day and age, but I feel the pregnancy more this time around. The wheezing from getting to platform 5 at the train station (this requires some 10 extra stairs), doesn't make a person feel young and vibrant. The constantly telling my kid I'm tired and that I can't pick her up, ditto. And then there is the wrinkle.
Now, I take pretty good care of my skin. To start with, something that has nothing to do with my effort, I have "good skin." I rarely have any sort of spots or breaking out. It isn't too oily or too dry. I got lucky in the genetic lottery with my skin. But I also tend to make sure I always have an SPF 15 moisturizer and a hat in summer. Living in Arizona showed me what happens when you don't. I don't aim to tan, ever. And, again with the luck of the draw, I tan more than burn.
Despite all of that, the genetic (or cultural conditioning) lottery has also passed on this thinking-frown. My mom has it, some of my aunts and cousins, too. We knit our brow when we are thinking through something, or a bit confused, or looking far away. Or really anytime our eyes are open. And my daughter has it. Ok, I have no idea whether this is genetic or learned, but I do know that when she was 1 year old, I noticed that frown on my kid in the lightbulb aisle of the hardware store, in contemplation of all the colors and shapes. She wasn't upset. She was thinking. It was adorable.
So, there is this potentially adorable wrinkle that, given 40 years of use, has gotten ingrained between my eyebrows. And, seemingly, it is now frozen in. Personally, I think it just decided to become a wrinkle (one that doesn't go away no matter how much I try the surprised look instead of a frown), the day I turned 40. And for the first time in my life I feel old. The wheezing, the back pain, the broken tooth, all of those help. But you can have times when you don't feel or show those. The wrinkle, it is just there.
"How do I get rid of it?" was one of the first thoughts I had. All 6 feet of unshaven me. Even the leg hair is an option, but this thing, that in some ways marks me as part of my family, and in other ways as a critical, thinking human, both things I think are positive, has me asking for bangs each time I'm getting my hair cut. Even though I'm trying to grow my hair on my head out more, a ponytail will never look quite the same to me again. Not on my face. Ponytails are for younger women.
On rough days that follow sleepless pregnancy mornings, I look in the mirror and think it is odd for someone with this kind of wrinkle to be carrying a child. Somehow, not even all of the life force involved in the creation of a human life is a match for all those make-up ads and airbrushed images in magazines I barely even read anymore. Why is it so hard to look and see something new as acceptable because it comes under the heading of "part of my body and my life, which is good and valuable"?
M and I had a discussion about this while out and about on errands yesterday (thank god the babysitter is in town this holiday season, when neither child nor dog have daycare). More than one of my friends has told me, as she passed a certain age as a woman, she started to feel invisible. No, people didn't trip over her or try to walk through her, but they all said that there were increasing incidents when they would feel ignored - no one asked if they wanted help with something, or held a door for them, as they started to show some sort of age - something that indicated they were leaving reproductive years. Or they were more often overlooked. They were no longer a potential mate, so they didn't count as much. I think there is a part of being female and appreciated that is linked directly to age and looks, and you can ignore it or be unaware of it until you realize it is gone. I'm not saying you get fired or that your friends all leave you. I'm saying that you start to notice some of your value in little interactions with strangers, was your sexual potential. Your youth. And that this is not something men experience in the same way.
I have a favorite excerpt from an article about teaching students about hidden sexism. An alien lands on Earth and notices that, on average, men are holding doors open for women, and not vice versa. This alien asks someone what it is all about and is told that this is done to show respect, that women are special. "Oh, it isn't because they are weak?" "No, we value them, we treasure them." "Ah, I see, so then that must be evident in other parts of your culture - do they also make higher salaries and hold more positions of power as treasured, special humans?" Touche. Seems like an unfair trade.
Anyway, that is me and my wrinkle. Still thinking about what it means to be a woman. (And probably out in its full glory the anytime someone tries to hold open a door for me just because I'm female).
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