Botox, Bullies & the Beast Called Beauty Standards.

Botox, Bullies & the Beast Called Beauty Standards.

There I was, sitting on the train, trying not to cry and ruin my eyeliner (which finally winged properly today, by the way). The reason? One of my sweet elementary students had been crying during playtime. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me her classmates were teasing her because of the mole on her cheek. “They say I’m not pretty because people believe fairer, lighter skin is beautiful,” she whispered. Then she added, like a knife through my heart, that if she ever got money, she’d use it to remove it.

Excuse me? A child already thinking about financing her first cosmetic procedure before she’s even finished multiplication tables? My heart just cracked into pieces. Of course, I told her the mole was a beauty mark and she should embrace it. But you and I both know that’s easier said than done when society’s megaphone is blasting the message: you’re only beautiful if you look like this one-size-fits-all template.

And suddenly, I was transported back to high school. There I was again, with skinny legs, stubborn acne, and bullies who swore up and down that beauty only belonged to girls with “big booty, thick thighs, smooth skin.” Beauty standards change with the times, sure, but somehow they never stop finding ways to exclude someone.

We need to talk about this beast called beauty standards. They’re sneaky. They make us believe we’re the problem when in reality, it’s a system designed to keep us insecure, and keep our wallets open. It’s the same system that glorifies youth like it’s a luxury handbag, shames aging like it’s a disease, and polices women’s bodies more fiercely than airport security. The “beauty industrial complex” doesn’t just sell creams and serums, it sells fear.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not against Botox, fillers, or lasers. If that’s your jam, go for it. I fully support people doing whatever makes them feel good in their skin. But what makes me scratch my head is the cultural obsession with youth, especially the competitive kind. You know the ones, people who brag, “I look younger than my age” as if it’s an Olympic medal, or worse, telling actual young people, “I look younger than you.” I mean, ma’am… what exactly do you want, a trophy shaped like a collagen molecule?

Here’s the real question: why are we so terrified of looking our age?

I’ll admit, there was a time I couldn’t even imagine myself beyond youth, like time would skip me altogether. And yes, I still sometimes wrestle with body dysmorphia. I catch myself in the mirror, wondering, Do I look my age? But those thoughts only creep in when I’m comparing myself to someone younger. And comparison is the trap. It always is.

Because the truth is, aging is a privilege, not everyone gets to do it.

I think back to the women I admired most growing up. They weren’t the ones desperately clinging to 22. They were older women who had settled into themselves with grace and humor. They laughed loudly, fine lines and all. They had wisdom etched into their faces like constellations. They didn’t compete with kids, they let kids be kids. And honestly? They glowed in a way no skincare brand has ever been able to bottle.

That’s real beauty.

So maybe it’s time to retire the measuring stick against youth. Maybe beauty isn’t about tricking the mirror into thinking we’re forever twenty-one. Maybe it’s about honoring the slow, sacred becoming of ourselves. About letting our scars tell stories, letting silver hair shine like crowns, and realizing that the body we live in, skin, moles, wrinkles and all, is already enough.

And to that little girl with the mole on her cheek, if you ever stumble across this someday: you are already beautiful, not because you’ve hidden your mark, but because you’ve embraced it. And trust me, you’re going to outshine every standard this world tries to shove down your throat.

Because at the end of the day? You’re beautiful simply because you are.

"Wrinkles mean you’ve laughed. Gray hair means you’ve cared. And scars mean you’ve lived. That’s real beauty."