Love and Happiness - the True Fountain of Youth?

Last week, the NY Times had an article about aging the French way. It outlined how the famous French beauties keep up their appearances, and one of my favorite parts of the article explains the "French women don't get fat" theory. Turns out that they do gain weight, and diet just like the rest of us. They're just raised to start dieting after gaining five pounds, instead of twenty. They also have occasional "procedures" but don't go overboard with implants, trying to look twenty years younger than they actually are, a la Meg Ryan.

The article also makes the point that happiness makes the appearance of age fade:

"For Frenchwomen, aging seems to be a matter of mind over makeup. If women feel good about themselves, right down to their La Perla 100-euro panties, they look good, too. Françoise Sagan once wrote, "There is a certain age when a woman must be beautiful to be loved, and then there comes a time when she must be loved to be beautiful." And many Frenchwomen seem to be well loved as they get older -- by their tight-knit families, their friends and, perhaps most importantly, themselves."

This made me think of a couple of personal experiences that made me think that's it. That is the fountain of youth. Happiness.

A little over four months ago, when I was stressed and nervous about the beginning of YoLadies, something happened to make me experience the happiness-makes-you-beautiful thing. I had a lunch date with our EnviroCajunQueen, Jenny Harvey, and I checked our web stats before going. I can't remember exactly what it was - number of unique visitors or just that we actually got visitors - but I felt happy. I felt proud and as I was walking down to "The Uzhe," I could feel myself literally glow with satisfaction. Then a man - much younger than me, thank you very much - actually stopped me in the middle of the sidewalk and said, "I just wanted to tell you that you're a beautiful woman." Seriously. And he wasn't a bum...just a dude who worked downtown. omg.

After that, I went to the funeral of a dear friend, and saw a ton of old friends and acquaintances I hadn't seen in twenty years. We had all aged, but the most beautiful of all the women in the group were those with lines on their faces. Their faces had love in them - love of sun and fun, bearing and raising children, dinner with friends and maybe a little too much vino - just love.

I'm guilty of thinking about "having a little something done" and buying spanx. As I begin to realize how silly it is in the grand scheme of things though, I'm thinking that just dressing in what makes you happy and being around the ones you love, working on something that you care about, that's what makes you beautiful. That and some fine undies and a good hair-do.

Here is a little piece of history, the original Electric Boogaloo, that should put a beautiful smile (and some smile lines) on everyone's face: