Things I Don’t Do at 44

Sometimes, the Internet will feed me my old content. Meeting Abra at age 28, or 31, or 34 is an interesting psychological exercise. What they say is true: There is no one you have less in common with than who you were ten-plus years ago. But the thing that I am constantly amazed by is how much time that bitch had.

Look at those collages. You made one every day?

Wait?! Your beauty routine on Sunday took three hours. Hold up, you had time on Sundays?

Is that a four-inch high heel? Whose ankles were supporting that choice? How many bandaids were you wrapping around your bunion-afflicted baby toe? Wait, your toes were fine?

You got your hair colored every 10 weeks? Girl, start saving up for the four-week touch ups now.

Your metabolism supported multiple meals per day? You ate a donut every day? You ate two most days?

I don’t want to be her again, but I would like to take a vacation in her life for a weekend or two. There is plenty that I did then that I no longer do, but these are the big ones as they relate to the subject matter of this blog.

One. No More Uncomfortable Clothing. Does it pinch? Does it shift? Does it only look good while standing up? Goodwill, Thredup, the trash. It’s not staying here. I refuse to own anything that I don’t want to wear because I know it’s going to hurt me or make me uncomfortable. Life’s too short. You can find shoes that don’t hurt and underwear that don’t ride up. No amount of beauty can justify adding any more strain to buy day.

Two. I No Longer Buy Products to “Fix” Me. If I could have any amount of money back, it would be every dollar I ever spent trying to “fix” my acne. Thousands of dollars were wasted on a struggle that was not fixable. In the early Hill staff days, when I sometimes couldn’t afford groceries, I would still buy any serum or soap or cream that promised acne relief. I would spend $400 on a derm appointment. $200 on a facial. All while I ate dry cereal and couldn’t afford to go out with friends. Talk about priorities.

At 44, I no longer am naive enough to believe that the cream, the concealer, the conditioner, or the treatment is going to fix me. I don’t need fixing. I am just a woman with acne and under eye circles and gray hair. I minimize within reason, but I no longer buy things hoping they will heal some imagined ill. Beauty products can help. They can give us confidence. But we don’t need fixing, and we definitely don’t need to go broke for it..

Three. No More All Nighters. If you’re keeping me up past midnight, you better have a good f**king reason. I routinely went 1-2 nights without sleep. Went to bed at 3:00AM for a decade. But now? One late night and I feel it all week.

Four. I No Longer Chase Trends. Ten years ago, I stopped wearing wide leg pants almost wholesale. I donated dozens of pairs of pants and jeans that weren’t cool anymore. Now, skinny leg openings are out, and I am rebuying the wider cuts, which were always more flattering and more wearable anyway. It’s a lesson learned.

Instead, I am learning to lean into what looks good on my body. Because if it looks good and it feels good, it doesn’t matter if it’s trendy — I’ll want to wear it, and I’ll know it looks nice. I am spending my money on the pieces I can see myself wearing for life, not the ones the frenetic chaos of influencer culture says I need. Cool is feeling good in your clothes, not collecting items you won’t want to wear in six months.

Five. I Give the Wellness Industrial Complex the Middle Finger. In lieu of medical care for women, the wellness industry is happy to sell us every gummy, powder, drink, shake, supplement and patch they possibly can. When I started accepting gifted items last year, the first people to knock on my door were the gummy peddlers and the supplement dealers. They promised more energy, brighter skin, better sleep, improved digestion, balanced hormones, and more. A 30-day supply of this salvation was usually $60-$90 per product. But who can put a price on health?

In my younger years, I took diet drugs and I drank every powder I was told would give me more energy. They did not make me healthier. And it boggles the mind that we ingest these products — which benefit from abysmal regulatory structures, can claim almost anything — and pay so much for the privilege. I will not promote them here. I will not take their freebies. I will not promote their claims. It doesn’t matter that they throw four-figure sums at me. I will not traffic in peptide shots or hormone creams (that come without blood tests) or spendy supplements, and I will not take them myself. Women need real medical care and real systemic support, not a fucking gummy.

So what are you no longer doing?