I’m not sure where the idea started that women should lie about their age—or at what age you should start lying. Once at a grad school party I announced that I was 30.
A colleague spit out his drink as his mouth gaped in shock, “Oh my God! I had no idea.”
He was 26.
I’m not sure when I turned into an “old woman.” I mean, I certainly don’t feel old. And really I’m not actually old, just “old” according to my 21-year-old-inner-self. Thanks to genetics, moisturizer and the religious use of sunglasses outdoors, I am more or less wrinkle-free in the face department which means people don’t usually believe me when I tell them I’m 41. 41! That sounds so old to me! Even though I know it’s not. And I don’t like the term “middle-age” either. THAT, makes me feel old.
The problem with being photogenic is that as you age, every angle is no longer your best angle. People can now tell that I’ve had little sleep or have neglected to eat cruciferous vegetables recently.