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368 pages, Hardcover
First published September 27, 2016
"But Jenny, don't you want more, sometimes? More than what you've got?
I thought of a line from a movie a friend of mine had written. "Well," I said, "no one ever wants less."
If a woman with some degree of professional success brags about or even comments upon her fabulous new filler or face-lift (When's the last time you heard a movie star tout her plastic surgeon? Or a leading executive thank her dermatologist?), she risks being derided as a traitor to the cause, someone silly enough to have spent the time and money to subject herself to an unnecessary, possibly dangerous, procedure. By the same token, if that same woman ignores the process of aging and eases more honestly into her inevitable wrinkles and jowls, belly fat and gray hair, she is liable to stand out as an anomaly within her personal and professional circles. In political science, we would refer to this as a collective action dilemma: Everyone's better off if nobody Botoxes, but once anyone starts, it gets harder and harder to pull back from the practice.
Freud once said that when you love, you pawn your heart. You have given someone the key to your peace of mind. I don't want to pawn my heart. I want to give it away, in great and boundless measure, to those I love, to the life I live. And I want to grow old with clarity, with fierceness, to see what is there, not what I wish to hope or see. To meet the road before me head-on, without illusion.
It took me almost two decades, but I've come to realise that I wasn't a casualty of circumstance in our family. I was making a hundred little decisions all along. Of course I was. To work and to parent in equal measure, even if my co-parent couldn't do the same, and even when I wanted to work more. To stay married, even when my husband couldn't or didn't give me what I wanted at the time. To keep waking up every morning with a man who's always happy, motivated, and ready to go, even when it means going without me. When I was thirty-three, this felt like a grievous compromise. But now, at fifty-one, I see it as an extraordinary achievement.
The world moves at a dizzying pace these days; we all have endless things to cram into our time, and, in our rare free moments, endless options for what we might do. I'm grateful that you chose to read a book, and especially grateful that it was mine. Thank you.
For some other perspectives, check out the other stops on the tour.