I’ve noticed on Facebook lately an increase in the number of FOF posts from “yesteryear.”
Everyday, not just Thursday, has become an excuse to post throwback photos. Some women appear to be so enamored of the lives they once led, the things they did, the way they looked, that they can’t seem to let go. Those were the glory days, they say, over and over. As far as I’m concerned, that’s not good. Not good at all.
“Why can’t NOW be the glory days, too?” asks my friend Pattie. I second that. I admit I get a bit melancholy, seeing photos of my 30- and 40-something self, when I had a full head of curly hair, not a jowl in sight, and a washboard stomach. But what’s the point of continually showing people what I looked like then, when I sure don’t, and can’t, look like that now? Move on, girl, move on, I want to tell anyone locked in the past.
You may not be as excited about the way you look today, versus how you looked three decades ago, but aren’t you excited about what you’re accomplishing now?
Maybe even more excited than back in the day, when you were less secure, experienced and smart?
Women (and men) involved in the fashion and beauty industries seem to be living in the past more than, let’s say, a woman who was in banking, which makes total sense to me. These women were either so beautiful themselves, or constantly surrounded by so many “beautiful people,” that they can’t face the fact they may not be quite as beautiful as they once were. I remember well my days as an editor on Women’s Wear Daily, when these so-called “beautiful people” wafted in and out of the office, exuding an air of definite superiority. Their looks and their clothes defined them. If I wasn’t so insecure then, it would have been hysterically funny.
This is surely why so many celebs today rush to the plastic surgeon’s office the moment they spot a wrinkle or the hint of a drooping brow. Then, most of them invariably make the mistake of going overboard, having so many procedures that they look as if they’re Scotch taped together. Not so with actors, such as Meryl Streep, Maggie Smith and Helen Mirren, whose brilliant acting talents make them beautiful, not the slant of their brows, the fullness and perkiness of their breasts, and the firmness of their necks.
Seeing 56-year-old Madonna at the Grammy Awards, a couple of weeks ago, dressed moronically, her naked behind exposed for all the world to see, made me feel a little sorry for her. (Not really, but you know what I mean.) She so desperately wants to hold on to her “glory days,” she’s beginning to look like she’s perpetually dressed for a Halloween party. She’s still got a great body and good looks. If only she had the taste to look like she’s living in the present.