by Nushie Adhikari
I am excited to age.
I don't know when I decided that I was excited to age. Maybe it was when my therapist gently smiled at me as I told her I felt happier. In response, she simply replied with the words that flooded my eyes; like the warm monsoon rain. That has stormed the city heated, heated for far too long by the scorching sun.
“I can see that.”
She can see that.
I wondered if she saw my smile slowly getting wider and brighter, just like the spring that gradually creeps in on you when you are too busy lamenting about the gloominess of winter. Like the sun reigning in the sky again and the hues of flower petals.
My smile was my trophy acknowledging that I have survived; and that any lines that dance across my face will recite stories as a result of my battles and wars rather than be the root of my insecurities at whatever age I reach.
I want the whole world to know I smiled throughout my long and hard life.
I want it plastered across my face every day, and I know that every stroke of wrinkles will only paint the colours of my victories.
I will embrace every deep engraving, every tale that it weaves across my face as if I am the tapestry and it is the threads.
Sometimes I see the girl who hasn't even passed the threshold of eighteen years worry about the lines and wrinkles that come with ageing and living. They are already racing to buy the latest skincare trend that will allow them to stay youthful, despite not having even fully lived their youth yet.
It's worrying to see. We are taught women shouldn’t age. Our faces and bodies need to forever be a snapshot of youth, and if the colour of girlhood drains out of us, so do our value and worth.
We watch our mother and grandmother, or any female relatives for that matter, hurtle to dye their hair to conceal any grey that slivered through the roots, therefore it's no surprise that we have simply picked up the habits of the previous few generations. I will never blame the woman simply forced to live by the rules and regulation that has been propelled towards them without any consent or permission.
What can we do? We are so tied to rituals that dictate our self-image that we almost forget to live. We get so lost in the rules and regulations of being a woman in this society that we forget that the same smile that draws lines around our mouth is a smile that gently forms on our faces when we see the sunset and feel at ease. The same skin that we pour money onto to ensure not a single mark of age is shown on it, is the face that has to withstand the harshest winter and the hottest summer heat.
Our face shows us that we have lived; that we have survived everything life throws at us. Give yourself a break.
It's okay to age.
It's okay to show the world that you have lived a life, grown with your face and will continue to live. That you will grow with the marks and lines that decorate your face.
(Do wear sunscreen though! Skin Cancer is no joke and the sun's UV rays are mean)
About the Author: Nushie Adhikari (she/her)
Heya, I’m Anusha aka Nushie, currently (trying to) study journalism and media studies! You will probably find me rambling about either myths and folklore or social issues that I am passionate about, but I put the rambles to good use by writing for this magazine!
(This piece was edited by Kearin Green)
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