Watching Lorry Hill and Freaking Out: On Aging, the Desire to Be Pretty & Sloppily Dealing With It

Something I watched recently and didn't feel the immediate need to develop an opinion on was Lorry Hill’s YouTube channel. In her videos, she analyzes celebrity plastic surgeries and speculates on the procedures they might have gotten over the years. 

A dental hygienist by training, Lorry is open about her credentials (or lack thereof) and her process for analysis (comparing photos over the years). She reiterates and delivers on her channel’s prime objective, which is to bring to light the fact that invasive cosmetic interventions helped celebrities achieve their conventionally attractive looks and to de-stigmatize plastic surgery. Each photo used in the analysis is prefaced with a disclaimer-compliment about how beautiful the person is, with or without the altered features. With cost estimates for each procedure, the videos conclude with the hefty price to carve out that Hollywood face. The comment sections teem with grateful subscribers that thank Lorry for showing them the punishing reality behind the beauty standards. Knowing better, they sigh a collective breath of relief. 

Moreover, the videos were just pure fun and extremely binge-able. Armed with an encyclopedic knowledge of procedures, I found myself scanning celebrity Instagrams for faces “perfected” over time. 

Personally, the channel did not set off too many insecurities. When I was 12, I thought that my large-ish was a problem to be fixed. I realized that this was a slippery slope because I had a laundry list of features I perceived would improve with a nudge or a shave or a fill. I also had no grasp of how much the procedure could actually cost and how inaccessible this lifestyle inherently was. I grew up, grew into my slightly large nose, and grew out of the idea. It still bothers me from some angles but not enough to permanently alter my face. 

But one video threw me for a loop. 

It was not the usual celebrity case study but one of Lorry’s own facelift journey. 

Objectively, the video was an excellent and informative review of her procedure. She documents her recovery and features an interview with her surgeon. He recommends pairing the facelift with a neck lift and a fat transplant to the face for optimal results. Lorry looks much younger, a literal decade and a half vanished from her face.

But we were now out of the realm of celebrity speculation. While her other videos scratched an itch and alleviated an anxiety, this one felt like an insult. Her taut skin was a critique of those who chose to age without intervention, a tsk-tsk at my own future of natural aging. 

The parasocial relationship clearly had me in its chokehold. 

Lorry was not the gatekeeper but it sure felt like she had moved the goalpost too far outside my comfort zone. While it is important to examine the influences that shape our personal choices, they aren’t necessarily the standards that we hold others to. When I dab my concealer on my dark circles, the only commentary I am making is on myself. I would be inviting questions about why I looked sleep-deprived. I did not want unsolicited advice on how to look less tired.

Then came the painful questions. Should de-stigmatization go hand in hand with the normalization of invasive procedures? Should we not contain this outbreak with celebrities and work on rejecting conventional beauty standards? Is there such a thing as the right reason to get a cosmetic procedure? 

I’m afraid the answers aren’t as straightforward as I like them to be (isn’t that all of life at this point?). In this murky overlap between societal expectations and internalized insecurities lies our conscious buy-ins - our personal goalposts of concealers, laser treatments, and cosmetic procedures. 

Militant refusal to participate in society is unfortunately one-way. There are very real consequences by way of opportunities in the workplace and inclusivity in social circles. This is definitely more so the case with celebrities, but the rest of the populace is not immune to its influences. Some level of acquiescence - some out of necessity, some more willingly than others - feels inevitable. While I applaud those who pay no heed to conventional beauty standards, I also understand those who choose differently. There is no one-size-fits-all solution.

If you are online in any capacity, it is hard to miss the constant messaging about what the desirable way to look is. We live under the magnifying lenses of an algorithm that regurgitates and reinforces what turns a profit. The internet is also quick to produce counter-trends to combat this, but their existence speaks to the extent of the damage done. We become aware of a doubt that was never in place before.

YouTube ads for body hair removal and beauty treatments where I live in Japan grate on my ears. The copy is egregiously and brazenly sexist, asking women if their boyfriends find them less attractive because of discoloration and body hair. 

There’s also no dearth of uncharitable comments trickling down into our own lives.

As a 15-year-old, I hung onto every word of an older cousin who talked enthusiastically about her success with the notorious Fair and Lovely skin-whitening cream. Go back four years and you’d find me stealing my uncle’s razorblades to shave my body hair in secret. Repeated remarks about how bushy and manly my arms were were turn-my-face-red embarrassing. My shameful transgression was soon discovered and I was promptly punished. The deeper insecurity was never addressed, much less treated with empathy. 

Now I flinch at casual comments on aging women. Maybe it’s a 50-year-old actress with conspicuous wrinkles. Maybe it’s the thinning hair that’s under the microscope. These flaws (aka normal signifiers of aging) are either labeled as misfortunes or framed in the insidious language of “letting themselves go”. On the other hand, complimenting a celebrity on their good looks despite their age feels worse. We lust after their routines as if genetics and wealth were not disproportionate contributors to their youthful appearance. 

I’d also be lying if I said all this wasn’t sometimes my own inner voice that I have to sit with and process.

Some (mostly well-meaning men) have suggested brushing off expectations and simply letting the words roll off our backs. The insistence on individuals to single-handedly thrive in a society that continually objectifies them and demeans them for straying rings hollow. While it is true that it is practically all we can do, it cannot come before scrutiny and mindful unlearning. Sometimes it isn't passive dismissal as much as it is an active choice to not engage. If we do not question how these insecurities were planted in the first place, we cannot treat the moments of self-loathing with grace. 

Wanting to look good should not be such a loaded desire. But when the parameters feel skewed in favor of looking a certain way in a narrow window of time, our approach springs less from creative self-expression and more from aligning with an illusory ideal. The inconvenient truth is that, in this battle between the idealistic desire to not base any amount of self-worth on appearance and the natural urge to capitalize on youth and attractiveness while it’s easier to do so, the latter often ends up winning. 

There are days I want to feel beautiful but I don’t. My hair looks limp and my skin lifeless. I stare daggers at myself in the mirror. There is no reckoning with this visceral feeling of inadequacy. These are the moments that undo hours of introspection. I throw my comb away in a huff and cool off in a corner before begrudgingly completing the rest of my routine. Think about the cool restaurant you’re visiting! Weren’t you waiting for this movie forever? What about this scenic drive you were so excited about??? My weak attempt at de-escalation has some success as I go about my day carrying a warped version of my face in my mind’s eye. Later, I find myself screaming compliments at other women in my life in their moments of insecurity, hoping they’d return the favor when I second-guess my appearance. 

At the end of the day, the wrinkles will be triumphant. There’s work to be done to develop a positive relationship with growing up and growing old. Eventually, we will stop hearing the modifier “young” used to describe us. A slight but gradual loss of physical vitality will set in, but in its place (hopefully) there will be the stillness of mind that lets us laugh at life and take it a little less seriously. Maybe we will get more adept at disabling the catalog of bodily ideals as we get ready and instead enjoy the movements our bodies allow us to experience life.

When the time comes, I hope we find reassurance in our own selves, because, ultimately, growing old is a privilege. 

I will defer to Ursula K. Le Guin who said it best in a blog she started at 81.

“I think the tradition of respecting age in itself has some justification. Just coping with daily life, doing stuff that was always so easy you didn't notice it, gets harder in old age, till it may take real courage to do it at all. Old age generally involves pain and danger and inevitably ends in death. The acceptance of that takes courage. Courage deserves respect.

If memory remains sound and the thinking mind retains its vigor, an old intelligence may have extraordinary breadth and depth of understanding. It's had more time to gather knowledge and more practice in comparison and judgment. No matter if the knowledge is intellectual or practical or emotional, if it concerns alpine ecosystems or the Buddha nature or how to reassure a frightened child: when you meet an old person with that kind of knowledge, if you have the sense of a bean sprout you know you're in a rare and irreproducible presence.

Same goes for old people who keep their skill at any craft or art they've worked at for all those years. Practice does make perfect. They know how, they know it all, and beauty flows effortlessly from what they do.”