The pressure to be flawless, beautiful, and thin has been omnipresent my entire life — sort of like an IV drip of societal and media messages that continually fed me headlines, articles, and images about being thinner, staying young, looking better. Since my teen years, I have always thought I needed to lose 10 pounds, have clearer skin, and thicker hair. At age 18, I took a women’s studies class that opened my eyes to the faulty and repressive message of women’s magazines, the beauty industry, and the patriarchal view that female attractiveness was essential to femininity. Yet even with my education and awareness, the beauty pressure remained, like an imprint in my psyche.

This complicated relationship with my appearance was magnified by a series of accidents that scarred my face and body in my youth.

“Even with my education and awareness, the beauty pressure remained, like an imprint in my psyche.”

When I was 10, I split my nose open after tripping and falling into the metal frame of a fold-out couch. A plastic surgeon stitched me up and the scar was minimal. Two years later, at age 12, I was stitched up by the same surgeon after a sledding accident. Either an icicle or a stick had put a hole in my face just a few inches under my lip. When I was about 16, I was very drunk and fell at a drive-in, which resulted in a very unsightly scar on my left knee. The same plastic surgeon performed a revision surgery to improve the scar a few years later.

“These scars and imperfections affected my self-confidence.”

These scars and imperfections affected my self-confidence. The scar on my face under my right lip was red and raised for several years, and I remember boys telling me I looked like a witch. I felt “less than” and experienced anxiety about my flawed appearance. I hit puberty later than my peers, which fed my insecurity as well. When I began high school I was flat-chested, had not started my period, and was still wearing clothing from the kids’ department. I recall my mother taking me to the doctor and asking, “What’s wrong with her?” The doctor replied, “She’s a late bloomer.”

I finally began puberty at 15, and by the time I was 21, my breasts had become quite large. I was wearing a 34DD and was always trying to hide my chest on my small 5-foot-3-inch frame. I was embarrassed by my large bust and during my period, the weight of them was painful. As I aged, they also began sagging, and my neck and back pain became worse. I decided to have a breast reduction surgery at age 40, and although it was a lengthy and somewhat painful recovery, it was a great decision. The neck and back pain subsided, exercising was easier, and I could actually walk around without a bra comfortably for the first time in years.

“I decided I would rather swim and hike (using sunscreen and hats) than use those chemical creams.”

In my late 30s and early 40s, I began seeing brown splotches and uneven skin tone on my face. The dermatologist said it was melasma, a skin condition that affects women with darker skin tones, and increases with hormone changes and sun exposure. Over the years I tried combating these imperfections with laser treatments and chemical peels and applied fading creams with very strong ingredients. The creams smelled awful and made my face sting when I swam. I was also told to stay out of the sun. I decided I would rather swim and hike (using sunscreen and hats) than use those chemical creams.

I stayed active in my 40s hiking, swimming, and weight training, but I did hit some aging roadblocks due to osteoarthritis in my hands as well as carpal tunnel syndrome. Those issues affected my ability to engage in certain exercise activities and required modifications in my everyday life as well, but I continued to look relatively young for my age. I always say that I feel 28, and I have also been blessed with a high energy level and a quick mind. I have a few gray hairs, some fine lines, and quite a few “wisdom spots” on my chest and arms from sun exposure while swimming and hiking.

“When I hit perimenopause around 46, I began to see and feel some distinct changes in my appearance.”

When I hit perimenopause around 46, I began to see and feel some distinct changes in my appearance. My skin and hair began thinning, the appearance of my wisdom spots increased and the worst change was a distinct increase of fat deposited on my abdomen. I had a healthy diet with plenty of organic vegetables, fruits, and lean meats, rarely drank alcohol, and swam and hiked regularly, but the fat just collected in my abdominal area. While I’ve never had a six-pack flat stomach (I tend to be thicker-waisted, a trait inherited from my mother), I consulted with a dietician and hired a personal trainer, but my new perimenopausal body composition had settled in. I was frustrated.

Thoughts of abdominal liposuction bounced around in my head for a few years and at age 50, I started researching plastic surgeons. I decided to get abdominal liposuction after finding a very reputable plastic surgeon in a nearby town. Initially, I was very bruised and swollen, and had to wear a compression garment for six weeks, but I was satisfied with the results. The surgery wasn’t drastic — it provided body contouring that reduced my perimenopausal abdominal fat and my clothes fit better.

“Would I actually seek another procedure? Why am I wasting my time on vanity? Why can’t I just age naturally?”

Then I received some before and after photos after the liposuction and they included shots of me from every angle. I noticed that I no longer had the contoured neck of my youth. I was sort of stunned that I hadn’t noticed this aging on my face before. In 2022, I scheduled an appointment to have some liposuction done under my chin. The procedure was performed in the doctor’s office and recovery was pretty simple. I was told the results would be fully realized in one year. I periodically looked at my profile and didn’t see the results I was seeking. Thoughts swirled in my head: Would I actually seek another procedure? Why am I wasting my time on vanity? Why can’t I just age naturally? I went to my one-year follow-up appointment and expressed my dissatisfaction with the results.

“In that moment, I made a conscious decision to disconnect from that IV drip of societal and media messages and work on accepting every inch of my body and face, even as I age.”

The doctor gave me some very expensive options, including a neck/face lift, and then she commented on my skin. She said, “What are we going to do about the hyperpigmentation on your face?” I said I had tried fading creams but I didn’t like using chemicals that made my skin too sensitive in the sun. She said that sun exposure was going to lead to more fine lines, as if that were an unspeakable crime. I told her that I would wear sunscreen, and that I’d rather have uneven skin and continue to swim and hike in the sun. I left that office feeling objectified and needlessly judged by the doctor, a woman in her 40s who was clearly submitting herself to every beauty and plastic surgery regimen available. She had no lines on her face, no spots.

On my 90-minute drive home, many thoughts swirled through my head. “Fuck the beauty industry and fuck my fight with aging and grasping for my youth. Fuck the patriarchal system that fed me the idea that meeting some arbitrary beauty standards would improve my life.” I was disappointed with myself for heading down the slippery slope of clinging to a youthful appearance through surgical interventions. In that moment, I made a conscious decision to disconnect from that IV drip of societal and media messages and work on accepting every inch of my body and face, even as I age.

Of course, I still have self-critical thoughts regarding my appearance, but trying to look younger and maintain a standard of beauty set up by a multimillion-dollar industry is futile. I firmly believe that the least interesting thing about a person is how they look. So now, my goal is to notice any self-critical thoughts and release them. I keep childhood pictures of myself displayed in my home to help me remember that any negative thoughts I have about myself, I am also saying to that little girl inside of me. This reminds me to nourish myself with positive thoughts.

“The more I let go, the more freedom I enjoy.”

Embracing my flaws and imperfections both external and internal isn’t easy. Releasing the societal conditioning in my psyche regarding my outer appearance is a process, but the more I let go, the more freedom I enjoy. At the age of 53, I no longer waste my precious time, money, and energy on attaining youthful beauty. Instead, I spend my energy living a healthy lifestyle that includes spending time in nature and feeding my mind and soul with meaningful ideas, experiences, and people. I embrace aging — gray hair, wrinkles, sagging skin, scars, and all.

Stefanie Vallejo Monahan is a special education teacher in San Luis Obispo County, CA. She has a BA in Journalism and a MA in Special Education. She enjoys spending time in nature, travel, organic foods and creative endeavors. She is the proud aunt of 6 nieces and 3 nephews.