What's in a Face?

Some thoughts on aging, beauty & disliking my face

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teenage Lachrista—17 or 18—taken on a disposable camera, baybee

I’m not happy with how I look. I used to take so many selfies (that I would then post!) and I’ve hardly taken any in the last year. I try to remember that I look like my dad, my Nonno, and my grandma. I try to find love and solace in that, and I do, but I feel so inadequate. I think part of this is also due to aging. I’ve never been 38 before. I’m grateful for it, but I’m also scared of it. I don’t know that I recognize the person I see in the mirror as of late. I’m also still getting used to my shorter hair. I remember boys in middle school saying “girls are prettier with long hair.” I wish I didn’t remember that. I wish I hadn’t internalized it.

My curly hair, which I only started loving in my 30s, has become thinner. I’m feeling a deep sadness about this. When I was younger, I read somewhere that straightening your curls could damage them, so I straightened my curls. My hair is not nearly as damaged as it could be, but I always think back to how using a straightener probably wilted them a bit. Now I want my curls—fully intact—but they’re done with my shit. I fear that I am losing a sense of self. It’s not all due to vanity—it’s how I know myself; how I’ve come to recognize myself these last several years.

I remember feeling pretty at the time of this photo, circa 2012

I have various insecurities about my appearance. I have a big nose. I have small lips. I have big teeth. I have curly hair. I’m not skinny—and I don’t want to be (I’m so fucking tired of hearing about Ozempic, y’all). As a former ballerina, hitting puberty was really disorienting. I wanted so badly to look strong but skinny like the prima ballerinas I knew. My body just wasn’t built that way, though. I’m stocky with muscular legs. I have hips that jut out like parentheses. I have a big head and face (the “Greco” head as my family calls it). I have partially hooded eyes. I have more wrinkles, proving I’ve been here a while. None of these features are inherently unattractive, but they aren’t considered ideal in the current aesthetic wasteland (except this big fat ass, of course).

I notice that after I’m on social media for too long, I start to see myself differently. I start to pick myself apart. I begin to see where I could get some “work” done. My internal dialogue goes something like this: “Maybe just some Botox for these 11s? Maybe a lip lift? Maybe lip filler? Maybe I should get an eyebrow lift—especially on my left side where it’s lower than my right. Maybe I should get upper and/or lower Blepharoplasty. Maybe I should get a nose job? Is there a way I can make my head smaller? Fuck it, maybe I should get a whole face lift.”

tats on tats on tats

Social media shows me how easy it is for people to change their face and body. I know I could never do it. Not because of any holier-than-thou moral superiority, but because of lack of money and the fact that I’m terrified (and traumatized) by medical intervention. Even Botox scares me because of the small chance that things could go wrong. I often think: “I will be in that small percentage of people who have a horrifying reaction to it.” Having SSD makes this more difficult. For me, I just get one face in this life. My face is my face and that’s it for me. For better or worse.

I don’t like posting old pictures of younger me. I worry people will see them and think, “What happened to her?” What happened is that I’ve lived, damnit. But I see and hear the way we all talk about women’s looks in this world, especially women’s aging. Many of us are not used to seeing women age, because women are not supposed to age. Women are supposed to do everything in their power to remain young. You’re supposed to get Botox in your 20s to prevent wrinkles. You’re supposed to spend copious amounts of time, money, and energy on your appearance. Makeup and skincare routines are proudly lauded as “selfcare,” and now meditative (?!). You’re supposed to do whatever it takes. If you don’t, you’re forgotten, spit out, crushed.

March 2024

I don’t want to play the game, but I still do. I’m not getting procedures done, but I own too many devices promising youthful skin and the erasure of wrinkles. Do I use these devices? Not regularly. Who has the time?! I’ve spent far too much money on these things, though. Beauty and capitalism are drenched in love for each other and I can’t stand it. I’ve started wearing less makeup, more out of exhaustion and lack of time than any personal beauty strike. I want to be done with caring about how I look. I want to be done caring about how to “fix” how I look. It’s such a process, though. The unlearning feels like it’s taking forever. I purposely log off social media after getting too many “beauty” ads. I seek out writing by people like

Jessica DeFino

who feel similarly and have a much stronger resolve than I seem to have. I keep trying to show up as my authentic self.

Perhaps someday I will be done with it all. Perhaps I’ll stop caring. Perhaps we’ll all stop caring, or at the very least, stop focusing so much time and energy on our appearance in the ways that never make us feel good (sometimes makeup is actually just really fun to play with!). In the meantime, I plan to get back to taking selfies of my ever-changing face and body. I hope to learn to love what I see staring back at me.

1. Competent Protector -

   Sensory and Sensibility

2. Going (un)noticed: On the hyper- and invisibility of being disabled -

   The View From Down Here

3. Sometimes Breathing is Just Really Nice -

   The Clearing by Katherine May

4. The 'Mob Wife' Trend Is Fake -

   Back Row

5. When the village is sick: schools in crisis -

   The Feral Stack

6. Housewife Demonology: Heteropessimism of the Will, Cruel Optimism of the Spirit - Jamie Hood (thanks to

   Raechel Anne Jolie
   for sharing this!)

7. COVID and the 2024 Election: What Biden and Democrats Owe High-Risk People - Alice Wong

8. Amazon's Hidden Chatbot Recommends Nazi Books and Lies About Amazon Working Conditions - Jason Koebler

9. The Genocide in Gaza Is Filling Our Beautiful Month of Ramadan With Dread - Eman Ghanayem

10. Goth girls unite: new Chelsea Wolfe!

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