As the credits roll on Substance, a film about a 60ish female fitness guru who undergoes a self-inflicted procedure to be young again with devastating results, I vow to myself I will make peace with aging.

The next morning, I pay $200 at the salon to cover my roots.

It’s a battle.

Intellectually, I want to accept the inevitable impact of time on my body, recognize my worth goes far deeper than taught skin, and celebrate the confidence years of experience have given me.  

Emotionally, I want to be hot.  

This year I will be 55. And even though inside I feel 37 (some days 12),  I can’t escape the fact that my outsides are changing.

After a lifetime of eating whatever I want, my body is now demanding I watch my diet.

I’ve gained 12 pounds in the past year that, despite working out three time a week, isn’t going anywhere.  I’ve developed GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disease) – a fancy term for chronic heartburn.  Junk food – my salvation in times of stress – now gives me a hangover (and let’s not even get started on wine).

Other parts of my body are also continuing their slow march to inevitable degradation. Glasses, which were once an only worn when absolutely necessary, are now a permanent fixture on my head.  I have to strain to hear the quieter voices in a crowd.

And this week, I found out I have arthritis in both big toes (to match the arthritis in my wrists and thumbs – yay! Now I have the full set!)

But the big shocker was learning I have bunions.

Bunions! Is there anything less sexy than bunions?  The word instantly conjures up an image of a white-haired old lady in a dingy terry cloth robe and worn out slippers, shuffling toward the couch with a coffee to watch Jerry Springer, all the while complaining about “those damn bunions!”

Is that what I’m destined to become?

After all, underneath the colour and highlights, I am a white-hair old lady!

And so, like the midlife celebrity Elizabeth Sparkle in Substance, I try quick fixes and miracle cures. 

I go on estrogen cream and although I am instantly hornier and more energetic than I’ve been in a year, I am also a weeping, insecure, hormonal mess reminiscent of my perimenopausal self and before that, many a period in my 30s.

I go off of artificial estrogen. I’ll take a dry vajayjay over suicidal thoughts any day.

I spend excess time at the beauty counter pondering different wrinkle creams and wondering if there is any difference between them.  (I swore by Clinique’s Overnight Turnaround moisturizer and was devastated when it was discontinued. I’m now sampling L’Oreal Revitalift Triple Power Anti-Aging crème – fine lines really do disappear… or maybe it’s just everything is in soft focus when without my glasses.)

I purge my wardrobe of clothes that no longer fit, buy new clothes one size larger, spend inordinate amounts of time styling them, and pray I don’t look dowdy given that (thank you  bunions) I can no longer wear heals.

My fiancé tells me he thinks I’m sexy throughout it all.

I believe him. I just wish I agreed.

Women are taught our entire lives that our bodies are our business card and that younger bodies are more valuable than older ones. Hollywood, as Substance brilliantly points out, perpetrates this idea.

Younger me, who had no clue what aging would be like, bought this idea hook, line and sinker – outwardly declaring that she would let her grays come in naturally and take pride in her crows feet while inwardly believing that fitness classes would keep the rest of her young forever.

Change is fun when it’s chosen. Not so much when it’s foisted upon us. As my 60-year old sister says, “aging is not for the faint of heart.” 

And so the war continues.

I do what I can to preserve what I have while trying to make peace with that which I am losing. I look for role models (other than J Lo, because let’s be realistic here).  

And, I do my best to compare myself not to a version of me who no longer exists but the version of me yet to come: not only the one with the inevitable age spots, saggy skin, and varicose veins but the one who has those things and is comfortable in the skin she is in.