On Social Media, Wrinkles
No, these are not the findings of any highly educated social studies floating around. These are our faces crying out to us, asking us to stop emoting.
I was washing my face sometime late last week while scrutinizing the blackheads perpetually permeating my nose when I noticed a brand new wrinkle manifesting right below my right eye at the corner of my upper cheek. It immediately reminded me why I hate washing my face–I should never be allowed such close, direct access to my head in front of an unapologetic mirror–but really? A new wrinkle?
I’m still young, dammit.
“You’ve got to stop sitting in the sun,” my silly, silly partner-in-sex suggested while I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into a pool of beauty-fostered neuroses.
But I’m no dummy–and thanks to the daunting information Kate’s mother bequeathed all of us earlier this summer in Sun Sense, I’ve gone cold turkey on the hot tomato and stopped sitting out unprotected and out of shade months ago. (An interlude for public service and safekeeping: If you still find yourself unable to kick this bad habit, think of sitting out like having sex. You wouldn’t casually do that without protection, would you?)
When I recalled the sad new evidence of a fresh wrinkle settling into my face to Charlotte, I offered an alternative (albeit superior to the former) suggestion as to why it may have found me. You see, I’ve recently adopted this hip facial pose which includes the puckering of my lips, pushing them in pursed formation to the right side of my face–forcing the skin on my cheek to resume a strange position that does not look unlike, say, a layered dress–and closing my left eye while letting my right one pop open even wider than it usually does. Does that even make sense to you? Here’s a photo for your reference.
A ha! Now you understand, right? There is a curious sense of intrinsic coolness that denotes a tinge of “I don’t care, I’m just doing me,” attached to emoting like a jack-ass for an Instagram, iChat or, erm, a Billy Farrel selfie. It’s personal, it’s idiosyncratically flirty, and it typically activates at least one cackle from the receiving end. There are no physical benefits, though. I just end up looking dumb–and evidently, contracting new wrinkles. Which brings me to revelation that, eureka!, social media is not only giving me FOMO, it also giving me wrinkles.
Charlotte echoed this theory, noting that the faces she makes to indicate her gamut of changing, vast emotions for Snapchat specifically have helped her locate several new, let’s call them, indentations of knowledge on her forehead.
So is this what “The Future” is all about? Young, tender faces emoting for one another and subsequently becoming as seasoned as one Larry David at 22? 23? 24? That doesn’t seem as funny as it should. Frankly, though, I don’t want to (or plan to) stop emoting–so what’s a girl to do?
In a rudimentary, preventative gesture, there are three face creams (not even really of the anti-wrinkle variety) I’ve personally begun using maniacally to at least make me feel like I’m self-serving which appear as: Kiehl’s Ultra Facial Cream, Nars Skin Luminous Moisture Cream, and Clinique’s Moisture Surge Intense or Turnaround Overnight (which I only – duh – use overnight). All three/four of them are 24-hour skin hydrators which also makes me feel like because I don’t drink enough water and evidently that can aid the wrinkle manifestation process as well, I’m practically hitting two birds with one stone.