The little cassette tape voices in my head say both, “Don’t let the classist, sexist patriarchy tell you how to age!” And, “Do whatever it takes to look younger to keep your man and career.”
Throw in Squamish’s youthful demographic, Zoom meetings that accentuate all things negative and an internet algorithm that hawks every serum, weight loss trick, and plastic surgery option imaginable at women and you will understand how I ended up spending hours scrolling through facelift options in the Sea to Sky.
I got down to discussing it with my husband — who is in the film industry and supports whatever I want to do — and assessing costs.
It would cost more than we have in RRSP savings.
Falling asleep I asked myself when was a time I felt curious, excited, and completely unconcerned with my appearance or expectations for it?
A long-lost memory of checking on stones in my rock tumbling machine as a pig-tailed, gumboots-wearing kid came to mind.
I recalled the excitement of picking rocks and then the unbearable weeks’ wait to see how the pebbles turned out; of holding shiny beach rocks and knowing I’d been with them through the whole process.
It was so fun.
So, I closed all the facelift tabs and searched for rock tumblers.
$100 got me started.
Three days later, the tumbler arrived.
My husband helped me film my excited unboxing.
Not surprisingly, Squamish river beds and the shores of Howe Sound have been amazing spots to find rocks to polish.
Sure, I quickly found through YouTube videos that my brethren in rock tumbling are mostly British men in their 70s.
But you know what? Men of that age have a certain “no bullshit” quality I aspire to.
They look out at the world with confident curiosity rather than navel-gazing.
The process of tumbling, like aging, is teaching me many things — about patience, humility; about making mistakes, doing things your own way, and not being afraid to change course later if things aren’t working out.
To be crystal clear, this is not to call out women who get work done.
People I love and respect have gone this route.
What we do not need more of is shaming women for whatever they do with their bodies.
It is truly no one’s business but their own.
I am not even saying I will never do it.
Just not now.
As Cher famously said of her plastic surgeries, “It makes me happy. [And] you know, if I want to put my tits on my back, they’re mine to do so.”
But, for now, I have closed those tabs on plastic surgery. In fact, I have closed the computer altogether more often.
After all, I have rocks to find.