I have decided that I need to give up media! Since going through menopause — and now living in my post-menopause years — I’ve been unpacking what it really means to be labelled “female” or “woman.” How identifying with this particular construct often positions me as less powerful than a man. As we age, we are supposed to gain wisdom, right? Supposed to see life differently, to find deeper meaning. Yet here we are — still judged, still compared, still attacked based on how we look. This thing called gender, this label female, still tells me our worth lies in how thin we are, how youthful we seem, how good we are at snatching a man, and maintaining some demure, line-free appearance.

But when I started digging into the messages of our capitalist culture — who profits, who gains — I began to see things more clearly. Would I be less valuable at work if I showed up without makeup? If I wore clothes that let my body breathe, shoes that let me plant my feet firmly on the ground, and let my hair grow grayer each year? Would my brain function any less?

No.

I could still design a poster, write a proposal, fill a spreadsheet, develop a strategic plan and lead a team. All without the extra time, money, stress, and constant decision-making about my appearance. My work would be the same. My mind would still function the same. Life would simply be easier. So why am I choosing to give up media? Because, like any addiction— binge-watching, doom-scrolling, or other forms – media is designed to hijack your attention. Not for your benefit. But to fill shareholders’ pockets. Not to uplift the economy, or the community, or society — and definitely doesn’t aim to uplift women.

Let me tell you what I see when I stumble across an ad or when I watch streaming shows or scroll on social media. “Lose weight! Get this! Fix that! Look better! Disguise your face! Hide your body!” The message is always the same: “I was [insert problem], but if you buy my program or listen to my podcast, I can show you how to be better.” It’s endless. Where’s the brilliance? Where’s the substance?

Sure, I love clever, witty comedy — and there are some brilliant female comedians out there — but still, I would get sucked in. I realized that, much like an alcoholic who can’t just have one drink, I can’t stop at “one episode.” It’s not that there aren’t brilliant actors — there certainly are. But what distracts me now is the prevalence of cosmetic surgery. Instead of appreciating someone’s brilliance, I’m stuck wondering:

Should I be that skinny?

Should my face look like that?

How do they stay frozen in time like that?

This really messes with my mind. It has made me question myself at a stage in life where I should be grounded in who I am. And whether we admit it or not, women are still expected to perform — to look a certain way to be seen as valuable. I’m not suggesting we should show up to work and fart all day (although, honestly, I’ve worked with men who do, and no one bats an eye). Women, though, tend to hold everything in — even our bodily functions – because we’ve been conditioned to believe it’s unladylike. And I wonder: What does it do to us if we suppress all that gas and pressure inside?

But back to the bigger issue: Media distorts my sense of reality. Every time I see these ageless women on screen, it makes me question my own appearance. And the truth is — I’m okay with how I look. I’m not striving to be labelled “beautiful” or “younger than my age.” I’m just me – an average human with an average body, having the privilege to grow old and live an extraordinary life by simply being okay with it. And I can’t be bothered anymore to spend time, energy, or money giving a shit about being “shiny” or “perfect.” I’d rather invest that in travel, my mind, experiences, and live life wholeheartedly than funnel it into an industry that profits from making women feel like they’re never enough.

For whom am I putting on mascara? Who am I trying to impress with “dewy” skin and glossy lips? Men? Women? I simply don’t care. And yet, here we are in a culture where most actresses my age appear ageless. Where aging feels like a psychological minefield, and the pressures to compare ourselves are relentless. This goes beyond the pressures I felt in my teens, twenties, thirties, or even forties. It’s not just about finding a mate anymore; it’s about this new battle — aging visibly and unapologetically in a society that worships youth and punishes wisdom in older women. And let’s be real: You cannot do it all.

You can’t raise children, work full-time, manage a household, maintain a marriage, and “look perfect” without something breaking. You can’t. You can’t go through menopause without something changing in you, your mind, your spirit, your body, and the way you look at the world. You can’t. It’s an opportunity to let go of a previous version of yourself — to mourn what’s gone, yes, and to embrace a new chapter. It is a privilege. You are not a machine. The system isn’t designed for women to succeed at everything. It’s designed to wear us down. To keep us small. To keep us performing. And I refuse to expend my precious energy on that performance any longer.

I choose my sanity. I choose my life. I choose to embrace my real self – fart-friendly, mascara-free, brilliant self. Aging isn’t the enemy. Pretending is.

NB: If wearing makeup, undergoing cosmetic surgery, or dressing up brings you joy and serves as your form of self-expression, that’s amazing. The concern here is not about personal choice but the toxic expectation and pressure that tells me I need to look young to be worthy. We are all worthy just as we are! Period.

Note: I used Grammarly to polish spelling and grammar, but the writing and ideas are 100% mine — not AI-generated.