DinoW

The Love/Hate relationship between women and…the Sun

 The Love/Hate relationship between women and…the Sun

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why are we so bent on capturing every ray of sunlight every second of the day till after sundown? Does young rhyme with Dumb and Dumber? Is becoming almost black- bronzed a sacred goal of youth? Despite all health warnings, parents’ recommendations and cancer threats, we go on and on in an obsessive quest for darker skin. Of course we read all those articles talking about the nasty effects of the sun but… we need our Vitamin D in quantity! With age we become slightly wiser: Our sunscreen is our darling companion. We take it everywhere. We can talk hours about the difference between SPF 50 or 100 or 30. We fight ferociously with our kids and cover them from head to toe with sunscreen but we have a tendency to cheat…a lot… now and then. We have to be absolutely gold- tanned in the summer and…most of the year! We invade the solarium obsessively ignoring the health hazards they keep on pestering us with all the time.

When we learn that one of our acquaintances has a melanoma because of the sun, we feel for her and overdose with sunscreen! After all IT ONLY HAPPENS TO OTHERS.

And to think that some of this obsessed crowd are racists! Go figure!

With middle age, we love to hate our mirror. Mornings in particular are hard to tackle. We look at our face as if it doesn’t belong to us. We are our worst and most hurtful critics. With an almost sadistic pleasure we go over every flaw and every tiny irregularity. God how we hate these features! How and when did they grow so flabby, limp, saggy, flaccid, flask .. do you know any more ugly attributes? And those sun spots? Or is it liver spots? Who cares? A spot is a spot and it’s obstructing our line of vision to a clearer healthier skin.

After 45 we start looking forward to evening lights. Evenings are kinder to us. The light is softer and it hides many flaws. We treasure these moments, which make us recover some shreds of our lost glory. Gradually we become cynical. We accept our fate. We grab every quote/cliché to console ourselves: “We will all grow old… everybody dies, it’s the cycle of life…” Let’s see how much you’ll smirk when you’ll be covered with wrinkles!…. We think in these lines every time we’re confronted with an impertinent, insolent young woman or man. Yes! The older we get, the more sensitive and… spiteful we become.

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