Does aging really suck?

I was recently in a conversation with a friend and we were talking about our aging bodies, and she abruptly announced, “Aging sucks.” 

The aging expert in me wanted to explain how it really doesn’t, but the 34-year-old, who is noticing those fine-lines, sagging bottom, and aching feet was ready to hold the banner she was carrying. This is the existential crisis of being a gerontologist. We study the social, emotional, and biological factors that impact the aging process, and then we study the outcomes. 

It’s a rewarding job, but it also forces us to look into a mirror that, to be completely honest, isn’t always kind. Our profession requires us to address the topic that we, as humans living in the 21st century, spend trillions of dollars to cover up. From hair plugs and boxed hair color to exfoliating skin creams, hydrating vitamin facials and BOTOX, we all want to beat the clock that keeps ticking… even we aging experts.

I should say that I have no qualms with individuals wanting to take the sting out of aging. We all agree that sometimes it’s rough. I, for one, will likely be a “natural” blonde until I die. But, I also want us to be responsible about how much of this “suckage” rhetoric we allow in our lives. It’s one thing to keep the reading glasses off the table for public view. It’s another to deny you need them at all. 

And although aging impacts everyone, the social process is especially hard on women. The perceived failings of our bodies are used to sell the virtues of youth. For example, TIME magazine recently published an issue, “Secrets of Living Longer.” I was at the grocery store when I first saw it and picked it up. 

Though pleased with the article in general from a professional point of view, I was deflated by the cover as a person. The image under the main heading is a woman at three different points in her life. The “23 surprising ways to stay young” in particular put a sour taste in my mouth. Despite the well-curated information inside the magazine, the subliminal messages that aging is something to fight are toxic to our social and psychological understanding of aging. 

There is no golden ticket, no secret well of youth, no sparkly elixir. In my years of studying aging, I have come to understand that the secret to aging is to embrace it. Yes, some days it does kinda suck, and it’s not really fair that Sally down the street doesn’t need Spanx or that cousin Ted isn’t even greying yet while your husband is seriously balding. It’s not fair that I have to wear hearing aids at 34. 

It takes time

But, fortunately for us, aging is a process and not an event. Because our bodies (under normal conditions) are capable of slowing down incrementally, we are able to connect with generations of people who came before us and those born after us. When I talk with older adults, a glimmer comes to their eyes thinking of the experiences that shaped them into who they have become, not the 23 three ways they found to look 10 years younger.

We are all searching for answers and may even a few remedies. But, I believe the more important societal question is, “why don’t we feel prepared to age?” Is it because young women are afraid to ask about menopause, mammograms, vaginal dryness, and thinning hair? 

Have we been socialized to ignore these truths and generationally taught to feel a sense of shame once they happen? I can say for certain, older people aren’t lying to us and they aren’t concealing anything. It might just be society telling them (and us) not to have conversations about these things. 

Frequently we sideline older voices, labeling them as dated or uninformed, but they are rich with experience that spans the past, present, and even future. I am reminded of a favorite quote from Madeleine L'Engle, who’s writing permeates my understanding of time, “The great thing about getting older is that you don't lose all the other ages you've been.” 

So, I challenge you, gentle reader, to think of how your other ages up to this moment have contributed to the beautiful -- and yes, aging -- person you are today.