In Pursuit of Perfection

To make peace with aging, writer and actor Jenny Mollen suggests we savor the present rather than long for the past.

- Jenny Mollen

I recently found myself uptown, at a fancy plastic surgeon's office, asking if I should have an upper blepharoplasty. That's where they trim the excess skin off your eyelid so it doesn't sag down over your pupil, making you look like a bullmastiff. My mother always warned that as I grew older, my lids would be the first things to fall. And trimming my blephs was something I'd anticipated tackling head-on, or, rather, eyes open, with a light anesthetic when I hit 40. Now, at 43, I felt like a radical for having waited so long. I grew up with a fitness-obsessed father and a Malibu Barbie mom who'd prioritized their youth and beauty above all else. There was never any stigma around getting "work" done or killing themselves in the gym for a six-pack. Maintaining my physical appearance has always seemed obligatory, something I had to put effort into if I wanted to succeed at life and remain my father's favorite.

My first brush with fame was a newspaper article in The Arizona Republic at 6 months old, where my marathon runner parents proudly described how they had me eating a low-protein diet and doing baby calisthenics to set me up for future success. I think there was even a photo of me doing an army crawl.

Despite my predetermined destiny, I've tried to be thoughtful about my approach to aging, not because I'm any less vain than my parents but because I know that regardless of my choice in skincare, eventually even Malibu Barbies turn into California Raisins.

I don't want to grow old. Nobody does. But there is no getting out of here alive. Like adorable little chicks on a conveyor belt heading toward a high-speed grinder, we all end up somebody else's collagen cream. So do we nip it, tuck it, or just say, "Fuck it"? Perhaps the only way to win is to savor the present instead of longing for the past. Time stands still for no one.