If you haven’t watched the cinematic masterpiece that is “Death Becomes Her”, the 1992 fantasy-meets-dark comedy, clear your schedule and do so ASAP. Seriously, if the names Streep, Hawn, and Willis mean anything to you at all then you’re in for a crazy good time. The film also happens to be one of my first experiences with classic cinematic trope of the aging woman desperate to cling to her last vestiges of youth.
Of course not every woman is willing to resort to blackmail and murder to obtain youthful immortality, but it is a fair reflection of our culture’s obsession with looking young, as well as how often we mock the women who are doing everything they can to hang onto this particular social currency. Why else would so few celebrities admit to having work done, even though many of them are aging disturbingly well (cough, cough, J.Lo)? Trust me, it’s not just topical skincare and supplements.
Rather than hem and haw over how unfair it is that primarily female-identifying people are held to an impossible standard of beauty, I’m much more interested in our shifting attitudes towards beauty and self care, especially towards invasive things plastic surgery that directly address the signs of aging. More than that, why we are still so preoccupied with sleuthing out who has had work done? In an age when appearing appearing high-maintenance, or — GASP — vain, remains a potential faux pas, how can we reprogram our views towards openly putting effort into your appearance, especially if it involves cosmetic procedures?
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