Why my lack of beauty is a blessing

Every second week I read an article about some middle-aged woman lamenting the fact she is now invisible. That shop assistants and bartenders have begun to ignore her. That she doesn’t see herself in advertisements anymore (except ones for adult nappies and arthritis gels).

I understand invisibility. I’m 42 – of course I can’t get bartenders’ attention. I can’t even get social media facial recognition algorithms to see me – today BeReal claimed that “Your friends will definitely prefer to see your face!” after I posted a clear, full-face, smiling selfie.

But here’s the thing – I’ve always been invisible. As a teenager, in my twenties, in my thirties. Invisibility for me is nothing new.

In a recent episode of The Imperfects podcast, Hugh van Cuylenburg is asked “What do you see when you look in the mirror?” His answer: an old man. Or, at least, an older version of himself. He talks about finally looking his age (42 – same as me!) and how uncomfortable he is with it.

But during his self-analysis, van Cuylenburg wonders if becoming insecure about ageing is “more of a female thing, because women are used to being told how beautiful they are and maybe their identity is a bit more tied up in what they look like.”

Used to being told how beautiful they are? Hah! That made me laugh. I’ve never been told how beautiful I am. Okay, my husband has told me, but he has such bad eyesight he wouldn’t know if I was facing him or had my back turned. And giving me compliments is one of his spousal duties.

By the time I’m ninety, I’ll probably be a total hottie.

What I mean is, I’ve never been told how beautiful I am by a family member, a friend, a drunk stranger, an inappropriate boss, a creepy teacher, some dude on public transport, a tradie on a scaffold, a social media rando or somebody’s nanna. No one. Even on my wedding day most guests just said, “What a beautiful dress.”

Now don’t go thinking that I’m writing this in the hope that someone will find my image on Google then contact me to say that I shouldn’t be so harsh on myself because I’m “not too bad”. Equally, I don’t want anyone to remind me that “beauty is on the inside” or that maybe if I had a better personality or smiled more or wore make-up I might seem cuter.