The Fear of Looking Our Age.

For The Exclusive,

Sara Shariff

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Cortisol face. Lymphatic massage. Guasha. Lymphatic massages. Mouth taping. Nose taping.  Morning shed. 15-step hand care routine. Avoid smiling or raising your brows. Don't sleep on your side. Buccal fat removal. Clean girl. That girl. Vanilla girl. All these terms or phrases are included under the umbrella of what is now being called “beauty sickness”. And we all seem to be suffering from it. 

In an era obsessed with filters, fillers, and facial serums, aging—once seen as a natural part of life—is now treated more like a problem to be fixed.

The fear of looking our age is no longer just a private concern whispered about in hushed tones; it has become a public, billion-dollar industry powered by beauty standards that equate youth with value and vitality with visibility.

Our obsession with beauty is borderline dystopian. We as humans were never supposed to constantly perceive ourselves this much. 

Aging is inevitable. Yet, the lengths people go to in order to resist its appearance seem to grow more extreme every year. There’s Botox in our twenties, preventative skincare regimens that begin in our teens, and an ever-expanding menu of aesthetic treatments promising to freeze time. Among the more bizarre and telling developments? 

Anti-wrinkle straws—specially designed drinking straws that claim to prevent the formation of fine lines around the mouth. In other words, even the simple act of sipping your morning smoothie is now suspect, potentially betraying you to the gods of youth.

But behind this obsession lies more than vanity. At its core, society’s fear of aging—especially when it comes to women—is rooted in sexism, misogyny, and patriarchy.

From a young age, girls are taught that their worth is tied to how they look, and that beauty is synonymous with youth. Smooth skin, shiny hair, and a slim figure are not just admired—they’re expected. Boys grow up encouraged to become powerful, capable, and confident, while girls are encouraged to become pretty. And once that prettiness fades, society often responds with silence or worse—dismissal. The aging woman becomes invisible.

For men, aging can bring a silver-haired gravitas. Words like "distinguished" and "experienced" are tossed around like compliments. Wrinkles can make them look wise. A few gray hairs can make them sexy. Meanwhile, women are scrutinized for the very same signs. Their wrinkles are “letting themselves go.” Their gray hairs need immediate coverage. The same crow's feet that add charm to a man’s face are seen as flaws on a woman’s.

This double standard is deeply rooted in patriarchal values that center youth and beauty as women’s primary currencies in society.

As women age, they often lose social capital. In Hollywood, leading roles dry up. In the workplace, older women are overlooked in favor of younger colleagues. Even in dating, many women report becoming “invisible” after a certain age. Aging men are allowed to evolve. Aging women are expected to disappear.

Misogyny fuels the narrative that a woman past a certain age is less desirable, less relevant, and less worthy of attention. And so, many fight back the only way they know how—through anti-aging products, treatments, surgeries, and self-surveillance. The market knows this and profits from it. Beauty brands sell hope in a bottle. Clinics sell time reversal. Wellness influencers package youth as a lifestyle. And we, believing we must earn our worth through appearance, buy in.

Social media amplifies this even further. Filters smooth out every wrinkle and pore. Algorithms reward the youthful face. Influencers in their 30s and 40s undergo subtle procedures while pretending it’s just “clean eating” and a new moisturizer. This digital sleight-of-hand breeds a toxic sense of inadequacy—and an impossible goalpost.

We don’t just fear aging—we fear looking like we’ve aged at all.

But the fear of aging isn’t just physical. It’s also emotional. To admit you're aging is to acknowledge the passage of time, the closing of chapters, and the creeping sense of mortality. In a culture that thrives on productivity and appearance, aging can feel like invisibility, irrelevance, and even failure. Especially for women, who have been conditioned to believe that their window of value is limited and closing fast.

The irony? Aging is a privilege. And trying to escape it with desperate measures only deepens the stigma. Instead of anti-wrinkle straws and midnight retinol rituals, perhaps what we need is a cultural reframe—one that values wisdom over youth, experience over smoothness, and authenticity over airbrushed illusion.

To do that, we must challenge the systems that made us fear aging in the first place. We must question the beauty standards designed to keep women competing for validation, and push back against the industries profiting off our insecurities. We must reimagine what it means to be beautiful, powerful, and relevant—at every age.

Because growing older doesn’t have to mean fading away. It can mean stepping into power, self-awareness, and the freedom to define beauty on our own terms.