Happy Healthy Fit Guide

My Father’s Nose

It is pretty incredible to me the profound and dramatic difference in the way I look from age 30 to now, on the cusp of turning 37. I have lines where once I did not, my hair is thinner and just less awesome than it used to be, and I have fat in weird places that make me think “when did this happen and more importantly, why?!?”. I looked in the mirror the other day and was struck by just how much my face, my nose in particular, has changed. I used to have my mother’s adorable turned up nose, so pretty and so feminine. Now have my father’s, for serious. no. joke. Nose. It’s prominent and Jewish and unmistakably his.

When did this happen I ask myself?

When did I become this person?

I genuinely miss, but definitely not mourn, the face of my youth. Full, plump, turned up nose and sun freckled free.

What I find so interesting about the whole aging process is the incredible lack of fucks I have to give about it. Seriously, I can’t get over how much less I care than I did in my early 20’s. It’s cruel really. In your 20’s, you’re so, so much more preoccupied with your outside appearance. I was never in love with how full my face was until my late 20’s when my face became dramatically less full and my cheekbones became prominent for the first time. I had always coveted “thin, older” faces, cause grass is always greener, right?! But the tradeoff was that now I had lines where there most definitely weren’t any.

The paradox of no fucks given to real, visible change is weird and hard to understand. For so long I cared, for so long it was about the outward; then like a quick summer storm, it changed. My internal became louder and drowned out the external and then I was someone else, new but not. It’s not that I no longer care about what I look like entirely, it’s that I have the most amazing sense that what’s looking back at me in the mirror now is perfect; my father’s nose, my forehead wrinkles and my sun freckles, and they all seem just right.

I would never like to go back in time. I have no interest in being 23 or 25 again. I love the wisdom of no fucks given. It is far more useful than youth and beauty. Looks will only get you so far, and if you have based much of your existence around them you will not like the future. You did not peak in high school or your early twenties. I promise. Being able to look past what’s directly in front of you, being able to see you for what you’re made up of, beyond just physical attributes, is a power far greater than outward physical beauty.

So, do all the things to savor your youth, ‘cause you know I do. I eat right, I exercise, I get lots of sleep, and I use excessively expensive skincare. There’s no shame or waste in trying to age gracefully. Just because you’ve learned the magical lesson of not caring doesn’t mean you should no longer care, it just means that you can do all the other things with less thought and preoccupation of “I hope I’m pretty enough” or “good thing I’m pretty” Go start a business, finish your degree, have a child, have another child, leave a shitty relationship, do all or none of these things. Just do them with the incredible, innate knowledge that you are perfect just as you are, at the age that you are, with your father’s nose, your forehead wrinkles, and your sun freckles.

Facing Your Inner Truth: The Courage That Gets Us Moving | by Tiffany Harbrecht

Improvise, adapt and overcome—the marine mantra that has played in the background of most of my adult life. With two parents who served in the Marine Corps. (I do not dare say “former” because they say “Once a Marine, always a Marine”), there was always a strong emphasis on resilience. For that I am eternally grateful.

I started thinking about adaptability after I read a very lofty article this morning, in which the author went on and on about the importance of being adaptable in our rapidly changing technological, economical and geopolitical global environment. He was trying to emphasize the benefits of adaptation and change, in response to the stress we experience as a result of these rapid societal changes.

While I appreciated his use of “I statements,” I couldn’t help thinking there was a missing piece in his argument. As someone who feels like I have an incredible amount of resilience, I believe that adaptability is NOT the only thing we need overcome adversity.

Sometimes it’s nice to hear someone say, “You can do it!” We can all definitely use a little cheerleader in our lives from time to time. We all have stories of when we needed to reach deep inside to find the strength we need to go on. I can detail numerous occasions in which I’ve had to improvise, adapt and overcome against strong odds, the most recent being cancer.

But being resilient isn’t just about our willingness to change. You can easily have that part covered, and you will very likely still experience the stress that comes with those challenging situations you face.

So how do you address the headspace you’re in? How do you reconcile a cognitive dissonance between wanting to be as optimistic as possible and the pain and/or fear you may feel simultaneously? Or, do you have to wait until that subsides before you move on?

The author posits that even those who are strong sometimes throw in the towel before picking up the torch and marching on. I want to talk about that. That’s where the real change happens. Whatever goes on in your head in that period of time—that’s what makes the difference.

The author would say there is always something you can do to move forward.

I disagree.

I think you need address the inner you before you can move forward. Improvise, adapt and overcome. The Marines are on to something. In fact, I think “improvise” is the piece this author was missing. That’s where we start to figure out what we’re facing, and regardless of whether we understand why it’s causing us stress, fear, anxiety, pain, etc.

That’s where we do the work.

Statements like, “You’re better than you think you are,” are meaningless without a hard look at who we are in relation to what we’re dealing with. That is not meant to sound negative—quite the opposite actually. Get real with yourself, and you’ll find awareness and an awakening of strength you may have never felt before.

This is less about a “can-do, believe in yourself” attitude and more about the acceptance that your current situation is far different than it used to be. Your world has changed. It may be permanent, like cancer or the loss of a loved one or temporary, like the grueling physical challenges of extreme sports or recovering from an injury, but that starting point of improvisation is the same.

Adaptability is not a choice; it’s a result. It’s what we do after we face what is in front of us and improvise. I will be the first to admit that much of my stress in adverse situations comes from my rejection of what is happening in my life. There is a large part of me that doesn’t want to believe it, to the point that I hope I could wake up and it will have all been a dream.

The talented singer, Lauren Hill, once said, “Fantasy is what people want, but reality is what they need.” I often go back to that. Recognition is courage. And courage is what will take us to the next step. When you are open to face your inner truth (for my philosophical friends, that can be with a little “t” or a big “T”), of seeing your life as it is now, not as it once was, that’s where you will find your strength.

I often hesitate to share any of my experiences with cancer because I don’t want to put that journey on a pedestal. My adversity is not greater than yours. I am not better than you because I’ve overcome something life-threatening. Everyone’s reality is justified.

When you’re ready, take a look at how you can improvise in your life. It doesn’t mean that you are healed from what plagues you, and you don’t have to be. But facing life is what will spur change.