Hey Cathy! I love all of your contributions to AJPT so far and can't wait to hear the response to this one. I think it is also a strange coincidence that you quote Michael at the end of the piece, just as I am asking everyone to wish him a happy birthday!
And since I forgot to write this in my intro to your sweet piece, I will say it here: Most of the time, publishing stuff about Michael's job makes me feel odd - like recently when another friend posted a picture of us on social and put an REM song as the soundtrack (what?? he is so much more than REM). But in your case, you use his lyrics so beautifully, giving credit to a wonderful person AND artist. And right around his birthday, no less!
Thank you so so much for this thoughtful and peaceful piece!
I'm so happy that you approve of the lyrics I used. It's what really happened, too. I hadn't listened to that song in so long, it was crazy to hear it in my bathroom!! (It is such a gorgeous song, isn't it?!)
I wonder if he and I are birthday twins. My birthday was Christmas Day. Maybe I should write about what it's like to share my birthday with Jesus next year! (Spoiler alert: It's not fun.)
I can't wait for Leo to read this piece. I'll make sure he leaves a comment!!
I thought of applying to be beauty editor, but to me beauty is not in the face, not really. It’s in our scars and their stories, our eyes and their level of light of dim, it’s how we feed and tend to this body we take for granted- pinching pulling and picking at its skin cover while underneath it, it does a billion things at once to keep us alive without our ever needing to think about it.
So this will be my unpopular opinion comment: beauty is not in your face, and if it is? Prepare to spend your whole life chasing after that face you used to see at 25, and couldn’t appreciate the collagen holding it on.
I’ll go so far as to say we’ve come this far.. from the 1980’s to now, but still think beauty lies in whatever the strangers in our comment sections believe our faces to be.
Or, at least for far too many - self-esteem does.
And for those who know they rock, that they are truly beautiful, congrats! You are what everyone is trying to pay for — unwavering self-worth under the gaze of a hypercritical hypocritical society.
It’s the Winona Ryder Theory. You can be the coolest, most beautiful, most admired girl seemingly in the world but it doesn’t mean you believe it, or happy, or won’t be stoned like a witch if you makes mistake. The higher others lift you instead of yourself, the further the fall when you’ve lost your usefulness - not your beauty.
I totally agree with you (surprise!) I think that's what the whole mirror gazing is about. You really don't see your face in the mirror (especially if you stand real close). I tried so hard to see within, since that's what I'm hoping others see. There is a light in there, a glee, and a joyfulness that I hope attracts people. The older I get, the better friends I seem to get, too. Because they see that lightness and sparkle. I try and remember that. Your comment is another reminder. Looks fade, right?!
I actually look at myself during FaceTime calls and podcasts etc. I’m weird like that, but fascinated with my face.
I have always been what is deemed a pretty girl. That I was smart and talented didn’t matter. Then in 2019 I came down with a touch of terminal cancer. In one year I went from normal to absolutely hideous. I would have extreme cachexia, my weight making me ugly - but more importantly unable to walk for 6 months. But I saw people look at me a flinch, be almost mad they had to look at ‘that’ I’d have mothers in Target hide their children’s eyes from seeing me. Which was painful, only because that year, children were truly the only people that were truly kind to me. I’d be mocked and bullied by much of my staff - nurses refusing to touch me saying I had ‘cancer cooties’, refusing to wash me - even my hands for 25 days. I was called The Monster. I was The Dead Girl in room 13.
That year taught me about beauty, because inside I was such joy so often. And I could see people, right down to every terrified insecure fiver of their being.
Because it’s a strange story, by the end of the same year — I was back to normal. And all people talked about was my looks. I’d defeated cancer eating my lung/trachea/bronchus/small bowel… and I am ‘pretty again?’ Well. Fuck me that’s great 😃
It’s such a phenomenon that in interviews and podcasts a lot (and I mean a lot) of women ask - what if your skin care routine? You look amazing! You don’t look 53, i’d do ANYTHING to look young like that.
Problem is, they all already showed their cards. So it literally means nothing. Because I was lucky enough to know even before I got sick looks are fickle. But during my illness I discovered that people would be so fucking cruel AND fickle. So now I see my beauty in a clear CT scan or perfect blood labs. These bodies are miraculous, under appreciated. Not by me. Mine is scarred up, banged up, and beautiful AF on the inside and out because look at it walk. Run. Jump! How Magnificent!
Holy cowbells! First, let me just say: I am really relieved that you're in remission and continue to have beautiful scans and labs. As anyone who has survived cancer or, like me, has a chronic condition (scarring lupus, yay!), I know how gorgeous those labs can be. But I am livid that mothers hid their children and nurses wouldn't care for you. That is criminal. Call it mettle, moxie, chutzpah, giving no fucks, stuck in forward-only gear, you are an incredibly tough human being. I can tell by your writing that I want to be friends with you. And, I can tell by your writing, that I will read anything you put in front of me. What a story. You tell it so well.
Thank you! I like that someone recently told me I write in a conversational tone, when in fact I just write what I’m thinking and don’t ever think twice. But I wrote a book (relevant to comment, not a pitch) that explains how I stopped giving a fuck early, and now it’s stuck. (Also will mention Substack comment app is a nightmare, to hopefully forgive some of my more egregious autocorrect because it won’t let me see what I’ve written!). Just as well. I’ve called myself cancer-free since Dec 9, 2019 because I am. I don’t play be the rules, because I got to see behind the curtain, and I saw oncology… cheats. Which makes me a loud and unstoppable advocate, because I am my proof. I’m determined to change how oncology works, and that makes me both beloved and hated in the internet.
Like there was ever a choice, unless wanted to sway their opinions with the wind.
I was recently accused of being arrogant because I believed I could change things, and because I refused to follow the standard of care that would have killed me. Each time less than pleasant adjectives are thrown at me, I remember to ask myself: would they say this is I were a man? If I had money?
When has believing in yourself and being proud of your life become egotistical? I believe that was when it was no longer sinful for a women to learn how to read and write, I imagine.
So now I often sing and dance a one with man broadway production for my husband called, “if I had a penis.” which is sung to the tune of Stefani’s Rich Girl.
AHAHAHAHAHA!!!! I want to know more about this If I had a Penis song. That is so funny. I am the only woman in a family of men so I have my own song and dance as well. Can you believe that before I married him, my husband didn't know that Ms. was a thing? He thought I left out the "r" when addressing the wedding invitations to women? AND that when we got married, I didn't automatically get his last name. It was a decision that I was making, and, if made, would require me to go to the DMV, Social Security office, etc. etc. etc.? I'm trying hard to raise a sensitive, ERA-loving, woman supporting son. If only I had a hidden microphone in our living room so you can hear me say the equivalent of, "Would you say this if I was a man?" To my husband. He was raised by women, too. That's how deeply engrained the patriarchy is! A pox on that!!!!
Oh I get it! My dad raised me to be like a man because I think he thought it’d make life easier if I believed I was any man’s equal. My husband was 1 of 3 brothers raised by a woman who taught them to respect and fear her. She and I had lung cancer at the same time, we lost her in 2020, but her last words to me were - go get ‘em kid - because I think all the mistakes in her case and the treatment she got made her finally understand why I have never been meek held my tongue nor my opinion back. But it did leave a weird family dynamic - because I’m not her. She died. I didn’t.
I officially changed my middle name to my maiden name when I got married. It seemed a compromise. I wasn’t leaving my name I earned to be sucked under some new add-on, plus I got married at 33 and it felt like I’d be losing old-me. So, even though my name spans out like a young child actors now, that’s all the me’s at least.
Having just turned 51 on Friday, this was a great read. I’m still confused when I see an old dude in the mirror, because in my mind I’m still 25. So maybe this is something I need to try to get used to the me that I actually am….
Excellent idea of a way to use this mirror gazing. I was talking to a friend just your age the other day and we were saying how the majority of people seem to feel the way you do - that when they look in the mirror they're surprised at what they see back because they picture themselves when they were younger. For whatever reason, he and I don't have that syndrome. I look in the mirror and see what I expect to see in terms of aging and wrinkles, etc.. It must be really jarring to see something different.
That's not to say that I don't have intense body dysmorphia, but that's a little different and something we can all talk about here another time if there is interest.
I know exactly what you mean, Derek. This exercise was really helpful in just seeing beyond the face. What's hardest is seeing photographs of myself. And I just turned 60! Now I know why my mother always took a Flair marker to her eyes and made them look like flowers!!
Snap! Adore this! Cathy is my fave writer on the Beauty Industrial Complex. Her book up for renewal really opened my eyes. And it hits close to home when I see nieces and nephews who are teens and are vulnerable.
I totally agree! We need more Cathy influence on young people developing their concepts of beauty. AND old people like me who still need it. Thanks so much for the thoughtful comment.
You are so kind to say all this, Sean. I wish I could see myself in your mirror. You always make me feel like the prettiest, funniest, smartest girl in the room.
Hey! It’s Cathy’s son, Leo! I find that quite often I subconsciously assume that, because I’ve lived with my mother for the entirety of my life, I know everything about her. Of course, I quickly realize that is impossible. I feel like a similar idea applies to anyone and everyone in my life, where I create a summary of someone no matter how long I’ve known them and how much information I have on them. But of course, summaries can’t include every small detail, and that’s just how my personal ‘databank’ works. I’ve heard stories directly from my mother of my grandmother aplenty, but I can’t remember spending any time with her (I was three when she passed). However, stories change depending on who they are being shared with. It’s like when a close friend is telling someone else the same story they have told you, and you’re like, “Wait, that happened? You didn’t tell me that!” Of course, this is a different situation, but I still feel the same way about my grandmother. Everything I can learn about her, from every perspective and every telling, is valuable to me. In reading this, I have learned not just about my mother and my grandmother, but the significance of their relationship and how that shaped the future generation, my mother.
Having read this a couple of times now, I want to say how fascinating it is to me how aware you are of this idea of formulating summaries of people. I think many of us live our whole lives just relying on summaries and not looking deeper. I also wanted to know if you see a resemblance between your mom and your grandmother, because I see it myself in that picture, but I've never met either in person.
Jane, I know Leo will want to respond to your comments. I am so choked up. I think we both have amazingly insightful, kind, and deep-thinking kids. So you know how to talk to them. And that means so much to me. He's got a real engineer's brain and I got such a kick out of his "summaries" of people. I so wish he got to know my mother. I think I look exactly like my father, but if my mother was still around, I am guessing Leo would notice that I definitely have her height (she was six feet tall!) and share in her biting wit and sense of fun. Once, when the neighbors asked her to babysit their toddler, they returned to find that my mother had painted their little girl's fingernails and toenails in bright red and placed a temporary tattoo on her tiny bicep!
The tattoo story is priceless! And so perfectly of those times!
Tangent but that just reminded me of something I haven't thought of in a long time – I once took a neighbor friend of my daughter and got them both manicures and pedicures, and the mom practically killed me for it after. I really didn't realize it would be that controversial!
Haha and that neighbor girl didn't come out with us again either – except for one time and her mom wrote her own name and phone number on the girls T-shirt in Sharpie as I took them to Brooklyn. Swear to God. Bad moms unite!!
The mom wrote her name in Sharpie on her daughter's t-shirt?! OMG that is the best. Bad Moms Unite should be the title of your next memoir!!!! I think this is my favorite mom story of all time.
I think it’s really difficult to say how much of a resemblance I see of my grandmother in my mother, since I have no recollection of her. From what I’ve heard, Grandma Susan was fun, stylish, and loved antiquing! These aspects I certainly see in my mother, but of course they are just broad keywords…
I really appreciate this correspondence and what you were saying makes complete sense. It reminds me of trying to describe or compare my daughter to anyone at all, because my feelings for her and the way I see her are beyond description and beyond words and certainly beyond comparison. Anyway, you're an awesome writer and if you want to write more for AJPT, as long as your mom says it's OK, I would love it.
Oh my gosh, just wait until I tell him about this opportunity. I can see the header: Hello, my name is Leo and I am a 14-year-old boy with something to say.
I was writing it in my head also as I was thinking about it! He's incredibly smart and articulate, as you certainly know. I think I would be fascinated by anything he writes about. Like his mom!
When I told him you were interested in having him write something for you, his eyes lit up like a pinball machine! I hope the meeting with your book editor went well today. I was thinking about you!
I am completely blown away by your comment. The thoughtfulness and insight you have is incredibly rare for a person of any age. I'm going to reread this a couple of times to fully absorb all of the great points you're making, but I wanted to start by saying that having you comment here so brilliantly on your mom's brilliant article means the world to me. Thank you, Leo!!!
I love this so much - the writing, the frankness, the honesty about the difficulties and rewards in cultivating self compassion. As someone also anticipating a milestone birthday and a rapidly changing reflection, I really appreciate this. Thank you, Cathy (and Jane!).
Oh, thank you Erin. Your comment means so much to me. Just so you know, I will always see you as a bright and shiny always smiling kid. Who gives the best hugs in the world.
“The more I stare, the more I hope that on the other side of the mirror is forgiveness.” I don’t think I’ve ever gotten teary from a beauty story before but here we are.
Hire her. This is so different from everything else out there in every great way possible. Just like you Jane!
If I didn't already have a kid who is used to his name and if I hadn't already gone through menopause, I would name my firstborn after you! This is the best comment ever. I am going to tattoo it on my forehead so when I look in the mirror, I see your words.
What a beautiful piece Cathy, as always. When I look in the mirror I see my grandmother's face, especially at the hairdresser. It's a shock every single time. I hope you get this gig!!! I want to see more like this.
Oh, thank you! And now I have to see a photo of your grandmother! And I will tell you the truth: You are one of the few women I know who just keep getting more and more beautiful with each passing year. I'd love to know your trick.
Great piece, Cathy! I knew I had to read it as soon as you said you would be making eye contact with yourself for five minutes. To me, that sounds impossible! I had a visceral reaction to the idea. And it’s not like I have self-esteem issues—I know I’m cute. 😊 But what an exercise in deep self-exploration that takes beauty beyond the surface.
I agree! That you are cute! Ha ha no I agree with that and everything else you said too. I have not yet tried mirror gazing myself and I'm actually scared to do it.
I will tell you, it was pretty hard - and then silly, and then back to being hard - to make direct eye contact with myself for 5 minutes! I think what I learned is that other people - my kid, my husband - are my best mirrors. I wish I could see myself as they see me. But I grew up with a mother who would never show her natural, makeup free face. That's a really hard message to absorb. I only wish she was still here so we could talk about this essay. I wonder if she would still tell me to "put on my lipstick!"
As scary as the exercise use sounds, I wish our moms had done it. Mine could, but I’m pretty sure she won’t. It’s always baffled me that all of the women in my family prior to my generation were vocal about how ugly they thought they were. And they were all beautiful! I touched on that a bit when I wrote about Ozempic here a few weeks ago. It fascinates me how easily this was passed down, and how it took a conscious decision and effort to make it stop.
Seeing myself through the eyes of loved ones…I’ve recently realized that my favorite photos of me are ones that have been taken by people who love me. A dear friend took my profile photo and I feel like it looks more like “me” than any selfie.
So true, Robin. My mother was so critical of other people, but her sharpest eye was always on herself. And she was stunning. But she was a chubby kid and I think that's what she saw when she looked in the mirror throughout her life. I remember both of us doing the Scarsdale Diet - she was in her 30s and I was only 13!! And in the end, it did her no good. She would up in a memory care unit in matching sweatpants with her hair braided off to the side by one of the aides. Not a stitch of makeup, either. I remember reading that Jackie O's final words were: If I knew I was going to get cancer, I wouldn't have done all those sit ups!
I’m taking Jackie’s advice. My mom has always been critical of others and herself. She’s learned to not bother criticizing me, because I somehow put a stop to it. My mom grew up in extreme poverty in an evangelical church that didn’t allow women to wear makeup. Even though she left the church when she was young, I think that and the classism she experienced left her feeling like nothing about her would ever be good enough. I try to keep that in mind when I’m dealing with her.
She and I did Weight Watchers together when I was in 7th grade. Also a waste, but after meetings we’d go out for a WW-approved dinner. We managed to have some good times doing that. It was a weird era.
You said it! It was a weird era!! My mother owned a really chic women's fashion boutique in my town and she thought she was definitely fashion's final say. All I wanted to wear was LL Bean and pink chinos. Imagine her disappointment when I got a job at Dress Barn. She took it as pure betrayal!! Why can't you live in Washington, DC so we can go out for a drink and talk mothers?!
Well I consider the world of Foundations as hazardous as a sandpit. I spend, I try, I fail to make it look much better than a mask, but then suddenly it will look pretty good and it really does make my complexion and scars less uneven. Consistency eludes me.
I can feel Cathy's personality popping off the page with all of her candor, humor, and warmth. I love this! As a 64 year old woman who just started using a little makeup about two years ago, this column hit very close to home.
Such brilliant writing, Cathy! You are such a engaging writer to read and LOVE LOVE LOVE this piece. I was hooked from the first sentence. You are my FAVORITE 🫶🤩 Jane Pratt needs you
I love this article and point of view. Cathy has such an insightful, heartfelt yet candid way of reporting about beauty! Although I was a reluctant mirror gazer, I am now more convinced that I need to be gentler with my aging face. At least being able to gaze in any mirror means I’m alive and gosh darn it I have earned every last smile, frown and forehead wrinkle on my face! Thank you Cathy for making me cry, laugh and cry again! And thank you for helping me see what is truly beautiful.
Your comment is making me cry and laugh and cry again! I'm so glad that we could do part of this experiment together. I love being by your side, mirror and no mirror. And you don't have wrinkles, silly lady! You are perfect.
Hey Cathy! I love all of your contributions to AJPT so far and can't wait to hear the response to this one. I think it is also a strange coincidence that you quote Michael at the end of the piece, just as I am asking everyone to wish him a happy birthday!
And since I forgot to write this in my intro to your sweet piece, I will say it here: Most of the time, publishing stuff about Michael's job makes me feel odd - like recently when another friend posted a picture of us on social and put an REM song as the soundtrack (what?? he is so much more than REM). But in your case, you use his lyrics so beautifully, giving credit to a wonderful person AND artist. And right around his birthday, no less!
Thank you so so much for this thoughtful and peaceful piece!
I'm so happy that you approve of the lyrics I used. It's what really happened, too. I hadn't listened to that song in so long, it was crazy to hear it in my bathroom!! (It is such a gorgeous song, isn't it?!)
I wonder if he and I are birthday twins. My birthday was Christmas Day. Maybe I should write about what it's like to share my birthday with Jesus next year! (Spoiler alert: It's not fun.)
I can't wait for Leo to read this piece. I'll make sure he leaves a comment!!
xoxoxo
A comment from Leo (wise, gorgeous and a great photographer!) will make my whole year!
Oh, that kid! I'll have him do it when he gets home from school today.
I thought of applying to be beauty editor, but to me beauty is not in the face, not really. It’s in our scars and their stories, our eyes and their level of light of dim, it’s how we feed and tend to this body we take for granted- pinching pulling and picking at its skin cover while underneath it, it does a billion things at once to keep us alive without our ever needing to think about it.
So this will be my unpopular opinion comment: beauty is not in your face, and if it is? Prepare to spend your whole life chasing after that face you used to see at 25, and couldn’t appreciate the collagen holding it on.
I’ll go so far as to say we’ve come this far.. from the 1980’s to now, but still think beauty lies in whatever the strangers in our comment sections believe our faces to be.
Or, at least for far too many - self-esteem does.
And for those who know they rock, that they are truly beautiful, congrats! You are what everyone is trying to pay for — unwavering self-worth under the gaze of a hypercritical hypocritical society.
It’s the Winona Ryder Theory. You can be the coolest, most beautiful, most admired girl seemingly in the world but it doesn’t mean you believe it, or happy, or won’t be stoned like a witch if you makes mistake. The higher others lift you instead of yourself, the further the fall when you’ve lost your usefulness - not your beauty.
I totally agree with you (surprise!) I think that's what the whole mirror gazing is about. You really don't see your face in the mirror (especially if you stand real close). I tried so hard to see within, since that's what I'm hoping others see. There is a light in there, a glee, and a joyfulness that I hope attracts people. The older I get, the better friends I seem to get, too. Because they see that lightness and sparkle. I try and remember that. Your comment is another reminder. Looks fade, right?!
I actually look at myself during FaceTime calls and podcasts etc. I’m weird like that, but fascinated with my face.
I have always been what is deemed a pretty girl. That I was smart and talented didn’t matter. Then in 2019 I came down with a touch of terminal cancer. In one year I went from normal to absolutely hideous. I would have extreme cachexia, my weight making me ugly - but more importantly unable to walk for 6 months. But I saw people look at me a flinch, be almost mad they had to look at ‘that’ I’d have mothers in Target hide their children’s eyes from seeing me. Which was painful, only because that year, children were truly the only people that were truly kind to me. I’d be mocked and bullied by much of my staff - nurses refusing to touch me saying I had ‘cancer cooties’, refusing to wash me - even my hands for 25 days. I was called The Monster. I was The Dead Girl in room 13.
That year taught me about beauty, because inside I was such joy so often. And I could see people, right down to every terrified insecure fiver of their being.
Because it’s a strange story, by the end of the same year — I was back to normal. And all people talked about was my looks. I’d defeated cancer eating my lung/trachea/bronchus/small bowel… and I am ‘pretty again?’ Well. Fuck me that’s great 😃
It’s such a phenomenon that in interviews and podcasts a lot (and I mean a lot) of women ask - what if your skin care routine? You look amazing! You don’t look 53, i’d do ANYTHING to look young like that.
Problem is, they all already showed their cards. So it literally means nothing. Because I was lucky enough to know even before I got sick looks are fickle. But during my illness I discovered that people would be so fucking cruel AND fickle. So now I see my beauty in a clear CT scan or perfect blood labs. These bodies are miraculous, under appreciated. Not by me. Mine is scarred up, banged up, and beautiful AF on the inside and out because look at it walk. Run. Jump! How Magnificent!
Holy cowbells! First, let me just say: I am really relieved that you're in remission and continue to have beautiful scans and labs. As anyone who has survived cancer or, like me, has a chronic condition (scarring lupus, yay!), I know how gorgeous those labs can be. But I am livid that mothers hid their children and nurses wouldn't care for you. That is criminal. Call it mettle, moxie, chutzpah, giving no fucks, stuck in forward-only gear, you are an incredibly tough human being. I can tell by your writing that I want to be friends with you. And, I can tell by your writing, that I will read anything you put in front of me. What a story. You tell it so well.
Thank you! I like that someone recently told me I write in a conversational tone, when in fact I just write what I’m thinking and don’t ever think twice. But I wrote a book (relevant to comment, not a pitch) that explains how I stopped giving a fuck early, and now it’s stuck. (Also will mention Substack comment app is a nightmare, to hopefully forgive some of my more egregious autocorrect because it won’t let me see what I’ve written!). Just as well. I’ve called myself cancer-free since Dec 9, 2019 because I am. I don’t play be the rules, because I got to see behind the curtain, and I saw oncology… cheats. Which makes me a loud and unstoppable advocate, because I am my proof. I’m determined to change how oncology works, and that makes me both beloved and hated in the internet.
Like there was ever a choice, unless wanted to sway their opinions with the wind.
I was recently accused of being arrogant because I believed I could change things, and because I refused to follow the standard of care that would have killed me. Each time less than pleasant adjectives are thrown at me, I remember to ask myself: would they say this is I were a man? If I had money?
When has believing in yourself and being proud of your life become egotistical? I believe that was when it was no longer sinful for a women to learn how to read and write, I imagine.
So now I often sing and dance a one with man broadway production for my husband called, “if I had a penis.” which is sung to the tune of Stefani’s Rich Girl.
We don’t sweat the small people in this house 🙂
AHAHAHAHAHA!!!! I want to know more about this If I had a Penis song. That is so funny. I am the only woman in a family of men so I have my own song and dance as well. Can you believe that before I married him, my husband didn't know that Ms. was a thing? He thought I left out the "r" when addressing the wedding invitations to women? AND that when we got married, I didn't automatically get his last name. It was a decision that I was making, and, if made, would require me to go to the DMV, Social Security office, etc. etc. etc.? I'm trying hard to raise a sensitive, ERA-loving, woman supporting son. If only I had a hidden microphone in our living room so you can hear me say the equivalent of, "Would you say this if I was a man?" To my husband. He was raised by women, too. That's how deeply engrained the patriarchy is! A pox on that!!!!
Oh I get it! My dad raised me to be like a man because I think he thought it’d make life easier if I believed I was any man’s equal. My husband was 1 of 3 brothers raised by a woman who taught them to respect and fear her. She and I had lung cancer at the same time, we lost her in 2020, but her last words to me were - go get ‘em kid - because I think all the mistakes in her case and the treatment she got made her finally understand why I have never been meek held my tongue nor my opinion back. But it did leave a weird family dynamic - because I’m not her. She died. I didn’t.
I officially changed my middle name to my maiden name when I got married. It seemed a compromise. I wasn’t leaving my name I earned to be sucked under some new add-on, plus I got married at 33 and it felt like I’d be losing old-me. So, even though my name spans out like a young child actors now, that’s all the me’s at least.
Having just turned 51 on Friday, this was a great read. I’m still confused when I see an old dude in the mirror, because in my mind I’m still 25. So maybe this is something I need to try to get used to the me that I actually am….
Excellent idea of a way to use this mirror gazing. I was talking to a friend just your age the other day and we were saying how the majority of people seem to feel the way you do - that when they look in the mirror they're surprised at what they see back because they picture themselves when they were younger. For whatever reason, he and I don't have that syndrome. I look in the mirror and see what I expect to see in terms of aging and wrinkles, etc.. It must be really jarring to see something different.
That's not to say that I don't have intense body dysmorphia, but that's a little different and something we can all talk about here another time if there is interest.
I know exactly what you mean, Derek. This exercise was really helpful in just seeing beyond the face. What's hardest is seeing photographs of myself. And I just turned 60! Now I know why my mother always took a Flair marker to her eyes and made them look like flowers!!
I love your mom's awesome way of handling aging in photos too!
Next time I'm home at my dad's, I swipe one from the photo album and send you the photo. She was too much!
Snap! Adore this! Cathy is my fave writer on the Beauty Industrial Complex. Her book up for renewal really opened my eyes. And it hits close to home when I see nieces and nephews who are teens and are vulnerable.
I totally agree! We need more Cathy influence on young people developing their concepts of beauty. AND old people like me who still need it. Thanks so much for the thoughtful comment.
You are so kind to say all this, Sean. I wish I could see myself in your mirror. You always make me feel like the prettiest, funniest, smartest girl in the room.
Hey! It’s Cathy’s son, Leo! I find that quite often I subconsciously assume that, because I’ve lived with my mother for the entirety of my life, I know everything about her. Of course, I quickly realize that is impossible. I feel like a similar idea applies to anyone and everyone in my life, where I create a summary of someone no matter how long I’ve known them and how much information I have on them. But of course, summaries can’t include every small detail, and that’s just how my personal ‘databank’ works. I’ve heard stories directly from my mother of my grandmother aplenty, but I can’t remember spending any time with her (I was three when she passed). However, stories change depending on who they are being shared with. It’s like when a close friend is telling someone else the same story they have told you, and you’re like, “Wait, that happened? You didn’t tell me that!” Of course, this is a different situation, but I still feel the same way about my grandmother. Everything I can learn about her, from every perspective and every telling, is valuable to me. In reading this, I have learned not just about my mother and my grandmother, but the significance of their relationship and how that shaped the future generation, my mother.
Having read this a couple of times now, I want to say how fascinating it is to me how aware you are of this idea of formulating summaries of people. I think many of us live our whole lives just relying on summaries and not looking deeper. I also wanted to know if you see a resemblance between your mom and your grandmother, because I see it myself in that picture, but I've never met either in person.
Jane, I know Leo will want to respond to your comments. I am so choked up. I think we both have amazingly insightful, kind, and deep-thinking kids. So you know how to talk to them. And that means so much to me. He's got a real engineer's brain and I got such a kick out of his "summaries" of people. I so wish he got to know my mother. I think I look exactly like my father, but if my mother was still around, I am guessing Leo would notice that I definitely have her height (she was six feet tall!) and share in her biting wit and sense of fun. Once, when the neighbors asked her to babysit their toddler, they returned to find that my mother had painted their little girl's fingernails and toenails in bright red and placed a temporary tattoo on her tiny bicep!
The tattoo story is priceless! And so perfectly of those times!
Tangent but that just reminded me of something I haven't thought of in a long time – I once took a neighbor friend of my daughter and got them both manicures and pedicures, and the mom practically killed me for it after. I really didn't realize it would be that controversial!
I love this story!! Oh, those teeny tiny nails are so cute with teeny tiny nail polish. My mother was never asked to babysit again.
Haha and that neighbor girl didn't come out with us again either – except for one time and her mom wrote her own name and phone number on the girls T-shirt in Sharpie as I took them to Brooklyn. Swear to God. Bad moms unite!!
The mom wrote her name in Sharpie on her daughter's t-shirt?! OMG that is the best. Bad Moms Unite should be the title of your next memoir!!!! I think this is my favorite mom story of all time.
I think it’s really difficult to say how much of a resemblance I see of my grandmother in my mother, since I have no recollection of her. From what I’ve heard, Grandma Susan was fun, stylish, and loved antiquing! These aspects I certainly see in my mother, but of course they are just broad keywords…
I really appreciate this correspondence and what you were saying makes complete sense. It reminds me of trying to describe or compare my daughter to anyone at all, because my feelings for her and the way I see her are beyond description and beyond words and certainly beyond comparison. Anyway, you're an awesome writer and if you want to write more for AJPT, as long as your mom says it's OK, I would love it.
Oh my gosh, just wait until I tell him about this opportunity. I can see the header: Hello, my name is Leo and I am a 14-year-old boy with something to say.
I was writing it in my head also as I was thinking about it! He's incredibly smart and articulate, as you certainly know. I think I would be fascinated by anything he writes about. Like his mom!
When I told him you were interested in having him write something for you, his eyes lit up like a pinball machine! I hope the meeting with your book editor went well today. I was thinking about you!
I am completely blown away by your comment. The thoughtfulness and insight you have is incredibly rare for a person of any age. I'm going to reread this a couple of times to fully absorb all of the great points you're making, but I wanted to start by saying that having you comment here so brilliantly on your mom's brilliant article means the world to me. Thank you, Leo!!!
I love this so much - the writing, the frankness, the honesty about the difficulties and rewards in cultivating self compassion. As someone also anticipating a milestone birthday and a rapidly changing reflection, I really appreciate this. Thank you, Cathy (and Jane!).
Oh, thank you Erin. Your comment means so much to me. Just so you know, I will always see you as a bright and shiny always smiling kid. Who gives the best hugs in the world.
“The more I stare, the more I hope that on the other side of the mirror is forgiveness.” I don’t think I’ve ever gotten teary from a beauty story before but here we are.
Hire her. This is so different from everything else out there in every great way possible. Just like you Jane!
If I didn't already have a kid who is used to his name and if I hadn't already gone through menopause, I would name my firstborn after you! This is the best comment ever. I am going to tattoo it on my forehead so when I look in the mirror, I see your words.
What a beautiful piece Cathy, as always. When I look in the mirror I see my grandmother's face, especially at the hairdresser. It's a shock every single time. I hope you get this gig!!! I want to see more like this.
Oh, thank you! And now I have to see a photo of your grandmother! And I will tell you the truth: You are one of the few women I know who just keep getting more and more beautiful with each passing year. I'd love to know your trick.
Great piece, Cathy! I knew I had to read it as soon as you said you would be making eye contact with yourself for five minutes. To me, that sounds impossible! I had a visceral reaction to the idea. And it’s not like I have self-esteem issues—I know I’m cute. 😊 But what an exercise in deep self-exploration that takes beauty beyond the surface.
I agree! That you are cute! Ha ha no I agree with that and everything else you said too. I have not yet tried mirror gazing myself and I'm actually scared to do it.
Aw thanks! 😊 I’m also scared to try mirror gazing. Which means it’s something I should probably be doing.
Me too. And I will do it if you will. Just set a timer for five minutes, right? I'll do it in the next couple of days - yikes
Considering I have very little I can use as an excuse this week, I’m in!
I will tell you, it was pretty hard - and then silly, and then back to being hard - to make direct eye contact with myself for 5 minutes! I think what I learned is that other people - my kid, my husband - are my best mirrors. I wish I could see myself as they see me. But I grew up with a mother who would never show her natural, makeup free face. That's a really hard message to absorb. I only wish she was still here so we could talk about this essay. I wonder if she would still tell me to "put on my lipstick!"
As scary as the exercise use sounds, I wish our moms had done it. Mine could, but I’m pretty sure she won’t. It’s always baffled me that all of the women in my family prior to my generation were vocal about how ugly they thought they were. And they were all beautiful! I touched on that a bit when I wrote about Ozempic here a few weeks ago. It fascinates me how easily this was passed down, and how it took a conscious decision and effort to make it stop.
Seeing myself through the eyes of loved ones…I’ve recently realized that my favorite photos of me are ones that have been taken by people who love me. A dear friend took my profile photo and I feel like it looks more like “me” than any selfie.
So true, Robin. My mother was so critical of other people, but her sharpest eye was always on herself. And she was stunning. But she was a chubby kid and I think that's what she saw when she looked in the mirror throughout her life. I remember both of us doing the Scarsdale Diet - she was in her 30s and I was only 13!! And in the end, it did her no good. She would up in a memory care unit in matching sweatpants with her hair braided off to the side by one of the aides. Not a stitch of makeup, either. I remember reading that Jackie O's final words were: If I knew I was going to get cancer, I wouldn't have done all those sit ups!
I’m taking Jackie’s advice. My mom has always been critical of others and herself. She’s learned to not bother criticizing me, because I somehow put a stop to it. My mom grew up in extreme poverty in an evangelical church that didn’t allow women to wear makeup. Even though she left the church when she was young, I think that and the classism she experienced left her feeling like nothing about her would ever be good enough. I try to keep that in mind when I’m dealing with her.
She and I did Weight Watchers together when I was in 7th grade. Also a waste, but after meetings we’d go out for a WW-approved dinner. We managed to have some good times doing that. It was a weird era.
You said it! It was a weird era!! My mother owned a really chic women's fashion boutique in my town and she thought she was definitely fashion's final say. All I wanted to wear was LL Bean and pink chinos. Imagine her disappointment when I got a job at Dress Barn. She took it as pure betrayal!! Why can't you live in Washington, DC so we can go out for a drink and talk mothers?!
Well I consider the world of Foundations as hazardous as a sandpit. I spend, I try, I fail to make it look much better than a mask, but then suddenly it will look pretty good and it really does make my complexion and scars less uneven. Consistency eludes me.
I love reading about beauty, and this was such a great article! Cathy said it perfectly - we are all beautiful and works in progress!
Thank you so much, Elise! And how lucky you are: you are gorgeous inside and out. I adore you.
I can feel Cathy's personality popping off the page with all of her candor, humor, and warmth. I love this! As a 64 year old woman who just started using a little makeup about two years ago, this column hit very close to home.
Mary! You'll have to tell me what other newbie makeup questions you have. I still don't know how to apply blush since my cheeks never did have apples.
Such brilliant writing, Cathy! You are such a engaging writer to read and LOVE LOVE LOVE this piece. I was hooked from the first sentence. You are my FAVORITE 🫶🤩 Jane Pratt needs you
And YOU are my favorite. Thank you so much for leaving me a comment. I feel like the most popular girl in school!!
I love reading Cathy’s writing! She’d be a fantastic Beauty editor!
Oh my gosh, Marie! Thank you so much. I need to hire you as my manager!!! xoxoxox
Love Cathy's writing style. Always interesting, always compelling. And funny, too!
And I didn't even have to put you on my payroll to say that! xoxoxo
I love this article and point of view. Cathy has such an insightful, heartfelt yet candid way of reporting about beauty! Although I was a reluctant mirror gazer, I am now more convinced that I need to be gentler with my aging face. At least being able to gaze in any mirror means I’m alive and gosh darn it I have earned every last smile, frown and forehead wrinkle on my face! Thank you Cathy for making me cry, laugh and cry again! And thank you for helping me see what is truly beautiful.
Your comment is making me cry and laugh and cry again! I'm so glad that we could do part of this experiment together. I love being by your side, mirror and no mirror. And you don't have wrinkles, silly lady! You are perfect.