The Longevity Book: Live stronger. Live better. The art of ageing well.. Cameron Diaz

made my career in a business that must bear a large part of the responsibility for how we, as a society, view ageing – a business that tells us that older is ugly or older is less valuable. The message is screaming from every elevation. Think about all the places we see it each day – in magazines, at bus stops, in shop windows, on billboards, and in our homes via television or the Internet. Everywhere you look, the signal is broadcast to women loud and clear: act fast, buy now, change who you are so you don’t succumb to the ravages of age. Do not, under any circumstances, let yourself get older.

      We’ve been getting messages from society about how to look for our entire lives. Even teenagers and young women are sent plenty of messages about how they should and could be more attractive. Women of all ages are bombarded with ideas about a standard of beauty that make them feel lousy or as though they have to be different. But with age it gets even more challenging, because these messages begin to suggest that we should actually be younger than we are, which is impossible. How can anyone feel good about that?

      The physical reality of ageing is going to present a real, true challenge to all of us one day. The external signs of getting older are one part of the conversation, but they are not the whole conversation. Societal pressures that encourage women to deny ageing or pretend that it’s not happening – as though we should somehow be immune to the passage of time – make it an even more painful challenge.

      I think it is possible to change the conversation around women and ageing – and it starts with conversations like the one we’re having here. Instead of whispering about each other for not looking twenty-five, let’s encourage real and open dialogue about what we’re feeling, what we’re wondering about, what we’re afraid of, what we’re hopeful for. Let’s agree to put more value on being a better mother, daughter, sister, wife, friend, colleague, or mentor to those around us, instead of acting as if those accomplishments are less important than having smooth skin and a perky bum.

      There are many ways to make yourself look younger, but from what I’ve witnessed among the women in my life, the only way to actually feel younger is to embrace the reality that you are in fact getting older – and deal with it. Teenagers look different from toddlers, women in their fifties look different from women in their twenties. That is healthy. That is normal.

      So I’d like to propose another message: I’d like to suggest that we all agree, as a group, that every age a woman passes through has its own beauty. Let’s raise our standards of beauty and remember that learning and growth and kindness are what we truly value and appreciate in our friends and our sisters and our mothers – and ourselves.

      We do not need to look like the images that we are bombarded with at every turn. We do not need to accept the faulty messaging behind those polished-up pictures. We can choose our own role models, women who inspire us to be our best, not someone else’s best. We can be the healthiest, most vibrant version of ourselves that we can be.

      AN APPRECIATION OF TRUE BEAUTY

      For years now, I have been painting on different versions of my face in my own beauty routine. Each variation has reflected a different standard of beauty, of what I thought made me attractive to the world at that time in my life. With age, I realize, I have had an opportunity to refine not only my skill with an eyeliner pencil but also my ideas about what makes us beautiful.

      Now when I say a women is beautiful, do I mean that she has good bone structure, bright eyes, coiffed hair, muscles that show she works out, curves like a racetrack? Maybe. More likely I mean that she is vibrant, that she is energetic, and exudes an understanding and an acceptance of herself and the world around her. As I make my way towards fifty, I want to earn the next milestone of my life. I want to have lived and learned something new every one of those days that got me there. I accept that I won’t be the same person at fifty that I am today. But I hope that I will be wiser, stronger, more compassionate, more conscious of the world around me. Those are the images I want to focus on when I visualize myself growing older – not this compulsion towards youth, towards yesterday, towards a picture of myself that I will never be again. That is my vision for my life. Not looking backwards at what I used to have. Looking forwards at what I might grow into.

      I was at a gathering of family and friends recently, and the women in attendance spanned ages and generations. There were infants and toddlers and children, eleven-year-old girls with knobby knees and their slightly less awkward teenage sisters, and women in their twenties, thirties, forties, fifties, sixties. I couldn’t help but think how each woman’s beauty was different, distinct. Their smiles were all unique, the colour of their skin, their hair, the way they gestured, the way they draped their arms around one another’s shoulders or laughingly passed forks and napkins around. There was so much beauty, and none of it had anything to do with age. It had to do with the light that shone from each individual person, from their way of seeing the world and their way of being in the world.

      One of the women there was someone I’ve known since I was sixteen and she was seventeen. She had been a gorgeous girl, and she is still gorgeous today. And looking at her in the sun, I suddenly wondered about how amazing it would feel thirty or forty years from now to know her still, how excited I would be to have made this incredible journey through life with her, women grown up from the girls we used to be. My mother was there, and she also looked so beautiful, and it wasn’t because of her makeup skills (even though her blue eyes still look great with a bit of framing), but because of the way she smiles and makes everyone around her feel calm and cared for. She is a beautiful woman because her nature is kind and generous, loving, grounded, and authentic in who she is.

      More and more I’m finding that the circle of women around me aren’t relying on procedures to help them “appear” to be younger. They are women who are engaged in maintaining the well-being of their mind, body, and spirit. Some of them are fit and full of energy, some have the shine and sparkle of youth, and some have a wicked sense of humour that keeps them laughing at life. But what they all possess in spades is an acceptance of the journey, with all of its unpredictability. Their vitality comes from that embrace, and they meet each new challenge with all the accumulated wisdom they have earned over the years. They have become the women that they were always meant to be.

      That’s true grace. That’s true beauty.

      

      A FEW YEARS AGO MY friends Judd Apatow and Leslie Mann made a very funny movie called This Is 40, about a husband and wife dealing with midlife crises and the marital issues that ensue. Part of what makes the movie so great is that it captures, both with humor and poignancy, a popular theme in our culture. Everyone is familiar with the idea of the midlife crisis – that post-forty struggle between accepting that you’re getting older and still wanting to remain young and relevant. But the interesting thing about the term is its prefix – “mid-”, as in “middle”. Because “mid-” implies that we are all bold enough to assume that our forties are the middle of our lives.

      While we may feel that turning forty means we’re getting old, the truth is that forty used to actually be old. Really old. It wasn’t “the new thirty”; it was pretty much geriatric. Because in 1850, the life expectancy for a woman in the United States was about forty years old. Less than two hundred years later, that figure has doubled. Doubled!

      I have to say – I was pretty shocked to learn that only a couple of generations ago, women my age were considered elderly. Forty used to be the end of the line. Nowadays it’s more like a springboard for professional advancement and family building and new learning and personal development. Today, people in their forties are working their butts off and building careers and nurturing relationships and starting families while training for marathons and learning how to grow their own herbs and make their own jam. Or they have raised a family and are starting the second phase of their lives, free of the responsibility of child rearing, allowing them to focus once again on their own development.

      We are among the first generations to lay claim to our forties as an extension of our thirties instead of a preamble to our seventies. Many of my friends in their forties make jokes