"I could see the budding wrinkles on my 30-something forehead and the faint red glow of the eczema patches around my eyes. Startled, I began questioning my appearance. Then I began questioning my device." - Caroline Mimbs Nyce in The Atlantic
In the last six months I've developed an aversion to taking Snapchat selfies. I'm only on Snapchat because my two older children once asked me to communicate via that app. Text messages are staid and take too long, plus they leave evidence (of what, I know not). So I snap away at the cats, the scenery, my (rapidly aging) face.
What a relief to read the article by Mimbs Nyce which places blame for my aging on the overly accurate lens of my iPhone. The phone doesn't lie (I don't think) but neither does it represent the progress of my aging sequentially. Instead, the rapid improvement in technology has accelerated my decline, when actually I am not so much different than I was two iPhones ago.
This dilemma indicates to me - yet again - that I belong to a different time, a time when mirrors were a frivolous luxury and no one worried about cameras. A time when people read books and wrote poetry, talked on porches while knitting, and mused about local events. Our current world overwhelms me to such an extent that I have taken to re-reading Anne of Green Gables and other childhood favorites before bedtime, reveling in both the familiarity and the simple dramas therein.
I realize that the early 20th century was no great place for a woman, but this early 21st century woman certainly wishes that things would slow down: technology, world events, even aging. As Thanksgiving approaches I am certainly grateful for blessings of family and friends that the world can't take away, and more determined than ever to stop looking in cameras and appreciate every moment.
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