Jan 28, 2022·edited Jan 28, 2022Liked by Sari Botton, Elissa Altman
I really hope all women can get away from lying about our ages! Because so many women do this, the world has no idea what it *really* looks like for a woman to be 40, or 60, or 80.
If I were going to care at all, I'd much rather someone thought, "She looks pretty good for 52" (my age right now, which I never lie about), instead of "Damn, she looks awful for 40!"
I think a lot of people have to lie about their ages because of ageism in the business world. My father routinely lied about his age in the 1980s and 1990s. He was born in 1926 and after his and my grandfather's pants manufacturing business in NYC died in the 1970s (a victim of cheaper imports and the shift to jeans and more casual wear rather than the fine dress pants they made) and a business importing jeans from Hong Kong petered out, he became a sales rep for companies that made clothing for young men, mostly: Sasson, Bugle Boy, Guess, etc. He had always looked quite young -- when he took me to get my first public library card in Brooklyn, the librarian threw us out, telling him, "Take your baby brother out of here, kid, and stop wasting our time" -- and so he could easily pass for being decades younger (like me, except he had to dye his hair starting around 63 and I am 70 and still have mostly brown hair). I remember meeting him for dinner when he came to NYC from Florida for the menswear show at the old Coliseum at Columbus Circle, I walked down from my apartment on the Upper West Side and met him for dinner. We ran into some of his fellow salesmen, and I was introduced as his nephew. By that time, my name and photo were in newspapers a lot, and if asked if we were related, he'd tell people that he was my uncle and not my father. He hasn't done that since he retired. He is 95 and I am 70 and he now acknowledges me in public as his son.
I have never been able to lie about my age because I work in academia, and my CV gives away my undergrad, graduate and law degrees, and besides, I like telling people I started teaching college in 1975 when I was 23. Nobody cares how old an adjunct is.
I'm 41, and for several years I've been accidentally adding to my age when I have to state it (and in my own mind, when I think it)! I've never hesitated to be honest about my age, maybe because I'm lucky to have a lot of fantastic, inspiring older folks in my life, maybe because of the particular kinds of feminism I've embraced, who knows. These days, I'm really looking forward to turning 50, because it just feels like an awesome age to be. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I feel very fortunate that my outlook on aging is somewhere between "relaxed" and "anticipation."
Elissa, I love your books and of course I loved this essay. There is so much in your writing that reminds me of my own mother, her deep aversion to eating for pleasure, and vanity in general.
Great article. I really enjoyed reading it. Your mom reminds me very much of my mother, who passed away at 72 a few years ago. She even dressed similarly and my mom also modeled at one point. I never knew her age until I asked one of her sister. My mom refused to tell us lol. What made it harder is that our family looks very young into our old age, so it’s difficult to tell.
She was not happy when she realized I wouldn’t be dying my hair once the greys really started to show, even though I typically look younger in general. She kept bringing up ad nauseam how I should dye it. She often gave me a hard time about what I ate, etc. They probably would have been great friends.
Thanks for this read! I am 49, my mother is 79. I have also been going grey since I was in my late teens. When I was in my late thirties I decided to stop dyeing my hair and let it go silver/grey which was a bit of a process to grow out - but beyond that it really bothered my mother (who has always dyed her hair and had cosmetic surgery to appear younger in her fifties). She would constantly comment on "how can I have a daughter with grey hair" as if she hadn't been going steadily grey underneath the dye for years. A decade later, she's come to terms with it (but I've started to wonder if I should start dyeing again now that my face is catching up with my hair.)
A lot of the problem today is that despite inclusion/ diversity/ body acceptance reflected on our screens and our books, grey hair on a leading or secondary actress - even just under the age of 50 - is still as rare as a naturally purple person.
Two out of two women in my office lie about their ages. This is a stupid thing to do because LinkedIn, and the internet in general, easily reveal the truth. These lies caused me to lose respect for both of the women, who otherwise were interesting and accomplished.
I really hope all women can get away from lying about our ages! Because so many women do this, the world has no idea what it *really* looks like for a woman to be 40, or 60, or 80.
If I were going to care at all, I'd much rather someone thought, "She looks pretty good for 52" (my age right now, which I never lie about), instead of "Damn, she looks awful for 40!"
I think a lot of people have to lie about their ages because of ageism in the business world. My father routinely lied about his age in the 1980s and 1990s. He was born in 1926 and after his and my grandfather's pants manufacturing business in NYC died in the 1970s (a victim of cheaper imports and the shift to jeans and more casual wear rather than the fine dress pants they made) and a business importing jeans from Hong Kong petered out, he became a sales rep for companies that made clothing for young men, mostly: Sasson, Bugle Boy, Guess, etc. He had always looked quite young -- when he took me to get my first public library card in Brooklyn, the librarian threw us out, telling him, "Take your baby brother out of here, kid, and stop wasting our time" -- and so he could easily pass for being decades younger (like me, except he had to dye his hair starting around 63 and I am 70 and still have mostly brown hair). I remember meeting him for dinner when he came to NYC from Florida for the menswear show at the old Coliseum at Columbus Circle, I walked down from my apartment on the Upper West Side and met him for dinner. We ran into some of his fellow salesmen, and I was introduced as his nephew. By that time, my name and photo were in newspapers a lot, and if asked if we were related, he'd tell people that he was my uncle and not my father. He hasn't done that since he retired. He is 95 and I am 70 and he now acknowledges me in public as his son.
I have never been able to lie about my age because I work in academia, and my CV gives away my undergrad, graduate and law degrees, and besides, I like telling people I started teaching college in 1975 when I was 23. Nobody cares how old an adjunct is.
I'm 41, and for several years I've been accidentally adding to my age when I have to state it (and in my own mind, when I think it)! I've never hesitated to be honest about my age, maybe because I'm lucky to have a lot of fantastic, inspiring older folks in my life, maybe because of the particular kinds of feminism I've embraced, who knows. These days, I'm really looking forward to turning 50, because it just feels like an awesome age to be. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I feel very fortunate that my outlook on aging is somewhere between "relaxed" and "anticipation."
I turned 50 in October and it's been good.
Elissa, I love your books and of course I loved this essay. There is so much in your writing that reminds me of my own mother, her deep aversion to eating for pleasure, and vanity in general.
Great article. I really enjoyed reading it. Your mom reminds me very much of my mother, who passed away at 72 a few years ago. She even dressed similarly and my mom also modeled at one point. I never knew her age until I asked one of her sister. My mom refused to tell us lol. What made it harder is that our family looks very young into our old age, so it’s difficult to tell.
She was not happy when she realized I wouldn’t be dying my hair once the greys really started to show, even though I typically look younger in general. She kept bringing up ad nauseam how I should dye it. She often gave me a hard time about what I ate, etc. They probably would have been great friends.
Glad you enjoyed this. <3
Thanks for this read! I am 49, my mother is 79. I have also been going grey since I was in my late teens. When I was in my late thirties I decided to stop dyeing my hair and let it go silver/grey which was a bit of a process to grow out - but beyond that it really bothered my mother (who has always dyed her hair and had cosmetic surgery to appear younger in her fifties). She would constantly comment on "how can I have a daughter with grey hair" as if she hadn't been going steadily grey underneath the dye for years. A decade later, she's come to terms with it (but I've started to wonder if I should start dyeing again now that my face is catching up with my hair.)
It's funny how uncomfortable this made me. Very well written. May we do better with our own daughters.
Excellent essay. You both look at least ten years younger - not that it matters much, as you say.
A lot of the problem today is that despite inclusion/ diversity/ body acceptance reflected on our screens and our books, grey hair on a leading or secondary actress - even just under the age of 50 - is still as rare as a naturally purple person.
Two out of two women in my office lie about their ages. This is a stupid thing to do because LinkedIn, and the internet in general, easily reveal the truth. These lies caused me to lose respect for both of the women, who otherwise were interesting and accomplished.
I'm 77 - worked on TV for many years - never felt the need to lie about my age. Let's embrace our ages and be proud of the years we've lived.