I Fell off the Vanity Recovery Wagon in Vanitycouver + Snapchat Episode 5

My Secret to Staying Young Forever!

After I published my memoir — Me: A Rewrite — in which I disclosed the cosmetic procedures I had up to the tender milestone of my 40th birthday, I rebelled.

For those next few years, perhaps because of the shame of publicly disclosing my excessive focus on appearance, I became a society-loathing, Naomi-Wolfe-book-reading, flag-waving feminist.

I halted all anti-gaining endeavours and raged against “the machine.” No Botox, no Dr. Chin fillers, no lasers, no creams or sunscreens or lotions or potions.

I was in a fuck-you-for-making-old-ugly mode.

Until, six years later, when I moved to Vancouver, BC.

Yep, within a month of living in wet West Coast city of celebrity lookalikes, I was looking for a fix, a “fix me.”

I admit that I may have taken women’s lib a little too far: neglecting waxing and instead waning on the unfairness of “developed” society’s warped beauty standards and intolerance of the natural progression of life.

Aging.

We are all aging, people. And one day we will all die. Or, if you prefer, we’ll “transition.”

But for most of my first year in Vancouver I was back on the Botox. I even did filler!

If you didn’t notice the extra plumpness, it’s because it was hardly noticeable! Quite likely because I told the doctor, “Don’t make it noticeable.”

He obliged.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that if it wasn’t noticeable, what the hell was the point? I discontinued fillers and bought expensive organic cheese instead, a far better investment.

What’s my point?

Folks, if you haven’t learned that I don’t really have a point and that I mostly spew off the random thoughts from an overactive imagination until they lead to some “aha” realization, then you haven’t been a loyal reader!

(I totally forgive you, though, because you’re going to hit the “subscribe” button right after reading this —and buy my memoir. Thank you!)

Where was I?

Oh yeah, so speaking of memoir, I was chatting with someone the other day who I hadn’t seen in years and who did buy and read my memoir — thank you, heart you! — and I realized that there’s probably an assumption that I’ve kept up my vain pursuit of poke-me-here-and-there procedures.

And not that I should care what anyone thinks, but I am still sort of vain and I do still care, so I’m here to set the record straight.

Other than a year of Botox in Vancouver plus six months of fake eyelashes and gel manicures — and an unfulfilling filler episode (or two) — I’ve not done anything of the sort in over five years — hmm, or is it six years now? — Not that there’s anything wrong with “polishing the stone” if you do those things! (I may again one day.)

[EDIT! Holy shit, y’all, I just prepped my income tax receipts and what I saved in lasers, peels and potions, I made up for in regular facials, Shiatsu massages and cellulite treatments — which is basically painful massages of the thigh areas with a pulsating device (a vibrator, but not “that” kind) — all of which were relaxing ish but didn’t do anything to alleviate whatever they were supposed to.

Also, apparently for whatever hokey reason, the Canadian government doesn’t think these services are legitimate business expenses. But, I’ll bet your backside that our Prime Minister is claiming a personal yoga instructor as part of his business necessities. Just sayin’.]

But, you may be wondering how I look like I’m in my mid to late 30s ish (with makeup) or like a 12 year old Asian boy (without makeup). Or maybe you don’t give a care. Or quite possibly, I’m delusional and don’t actually look any younger than I am!

Whatever, for those who are curious, I’m here to share my anti-aging secrets!

And, nope, as much as I love Thrive, I haven’t been taking the supplements long enough for them to have an anti-aging effect. (Yet.)

Here’s What Didn’t Keep Me Youthful These Past Few Years:

It wasn’t the stress of quitting my 20 year career, selling my house and all possessions, and moving to a different country. Nope, not that!
It wasn’t the effects of being in a relationship with a guy (in that new country) I’d thought for sure was my dream man — after all, he was on my screensaver for many moons before he ever knew I existed — but having that relationship turn out to be a nightmare. Not that, either!
It wasn’t the dragging of my exhausted butt through each day without realizing I had hypothyroidism (slow thyroid) caused by years of stress and off-the-charts heavy metal toxicity from drinking logging camp river water. Not that!
It wasn’t the anxiety of having three immediate and in-law family members with three different types of cancer. Or watching two of them die. (*sigh* Transition.) Nope.
It wasn’t even running through my savings while trying to establish a new business helping people find (self) love — while not actually wanting to talk to anyone. Nah.

But believe it or not, all those things helped.

What????

I shit you a finely braided knot.

Because —

Here’s What Has Kept Me Youthful These Past Few Years:

Having the courage to trust myself to make a big fucking change in my life. To quit my old life and old (younger) self and fly out of that self-imposed cage like the brave little bird that I so am!
Having the experience of loving a man who wasn’t the right man for me, but from whom I learned much about life, love and relationships. (Thanks, Monkey!)
Noticing and appreciating what my physical body does for me even when I was tired with hypothyroid induced dry skin and brittle hair and chin hairs and cellulite. (And the realization that drinking creosote tainted river water might not good for you, but I’d never trade my logging camp days for all the thyroid meds on God’s fading green earth!)
Acknowledging the bucket-filling expansiveness of how much love is present when the ones we love are fading from our presence and God’s green earth. #God #family #friends
Developing the confidence in myself from looking back on the accomplishments I have had and knowing that no matter what — even if organic cheese is no longer in the budget — I will be ok. I am not a survivor, I am a thriver! And because of that, I am helping others discover their truth, worth and strength. Self-love is the answer.

That’s the shit that keeps me youthful if not looking young.

What Have We Re-Learned? / Homework:

Be scared, love imperfectly, be imperfect, lose yourself, open your heart, have your heart broken, grieve grieve grieve all the losses and then get back up and love the fuck out of life. Attitude of gratitude, attitude of gratitude.

xo AJ

p.s. Buy my memoir.