If the face fits, wear it...
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In my last post, when I put up a wedding day picture, quite apart from the not unexpected remarks about my hairstyle, both Pat and Mary made comments to the effect that I'd "grown into" my face, or that my face now fits me better.
I must admit I wasn't entirely sure what they meant.
When I mentioned this to Maggie, she said she knew exactly, but upon further enquiry she became kind of vague and changed the subject.
Putting issues of weight aside, does my face "fit" me better now than it did in the past? In many ways it's a strange concept; surely my face is my face whatever age I am?
And yet, maybe there's something in it.
There are plenty of people who crave youth, despair as they move further away from it and spend large amounts of time desperately trying to recapture it. But for me, I've always preferred being a grown up; I never liked people calling me "son", although I still feel a bit too young for "Grandad."
But despite the Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, in many ways I am more self-assured, more comfortable in who I am than I have ever been.
Finally I've reached an age where other people take me more seriously than I do.
It is said the older we get, the more we end up with the face we deserve - grumpy, happy, angry, peaceful - the frequency with which we express these emotions, causes them to contort the skin into permanent wrinkles. Will our lives culminate with a scowl etched into our appearance, or laughter lines?
Perhaps it's why I find aging faces so much more interesting to look at than youthful ones. Forget airbrushed 20 somethings, I love photos of faces that have been lived in.
However, the way mine is shaping up, I wish I'd smiled a bit more often.
Ages: a few months, 5 & 16
Ages: 18 (yes that is an attempt at a moustache), 21 & 24
Aged 26, 28 & 31 (with baby Meg)
Aged 34, 38 & 41
.
In my last post, when I put up a wedding day picture, quite apart from the not unexpected remarks about my hairstyle, both Pat and Mary made comments to the effect that I'd "grown into" my face, or that my face now fits me better.
I must admit I wasn't entirely sure what they meant.
When I mentioned this to Maggie, she said she knew exactly, but upon further enquiry she became kind of vague and changed the subject.
Putting issues of weight aside, does my face "fit" me better now than it did in the past? In many ways it's a strange concept; surely my face is my face whatever age I am?
And yet, maybe there's something in it.
There are plenty of people who crave youth, despair as they move further away from it and spend large amounts of time desperately trying to recapture it. But for me, I've always preferred being a grown up; I never liked people calling me "son", although I still feel a bit too young for "Grandad."
But despite the Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, in many ways I am more self-assured, more comfortable in who I am than I have ever been.
Finally I've reached an age where other people take me more seriously than I do.
It is said the older we get, the more we end up with the face we deserve - grumpy, happy, angry, peaceful - the frequency with which we express these emotions, causes them to contort the skin into permanent wrinkles. Will our lives culminate with a scowl etched into our appearance, or laughter lines?
Perhaps it's why I find aging faces so much more interesting to look at than youthful ones. Forget airbrushed 20 somethings, I love photos of faces that have been lived in.
However, the way mine is shaping up, I wish I'd smiled a bit more often.
Ages: a few months, 5 & 16
Ages: 18 (yes that is an attempt at a moustache), 21 & 24
Aged 26, 28 & 31 (with baby Meg)
Aged 34, 38 & 41
.
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