It’s looking saggy and crepey and chickenish and I hate it.
My family and friends insist that I’m crazy and my neck looks fine, but I own a mirror and I can see that it looks like hell.
Worst of all, having this neck has set several of my most cherished ideals about myself awry.
First of all, I’ve always thought that I would age gracefully. I’ve never been a vain person. If you had asked me at age 25 or 35 how important my looks were to me, I’d have rated them no more than 5. I would have told you that, while it was nice to be moderately good-looking, it was my personality and temperment that made me attractive, more so than my looks. Yes, this is the kind of stupid crap I said back when my skin was young and firm. Let me tell you, it was the purest bullshit – I hate losing my looks. And I hate that worrying about losing my looks makes me feel shallow and ridiculous.
And I’ve always been a skeptic – practically from my first remembered thought. And yet, this damned neck of mine has convinced me to buy several varieties of snake oil that the charletons selling it tell me will ‘lift’ my neck, or ‘firm’ it or ‘refine’ it. The last stuff I bought (DMAE serum) was, at least, fairly cheap and is kind of working, maybe. The stuff I bought before that (stri-vectin) was expensive, and actually seemed to make the sagging worse. This latest stuff I’m thinking about (Shiseido Benefiance Concentrated Neck Contour Treatment) is 50 bucks. But I’ll probably be at Macy’s tomorrow buying the shit anyway, like a credulous nitwit. So I’m losing my looks and my brains. Peachy.
I knew the second I lifed this book out of the carton at the bookstore that it would sell a gazillion copies. I feel your pain, Jess. I’m 51 and I’m told I look 38, but if you ask me, my neck fills in the 13 year gap.
I, too, feel your pain. After years of being pretty, hey even beautiful to some, here I am, 45 years old and 40 lbs overweight and I’ve developed a waddle. That’s all I can think of to call it. A little pouch of fat hanging just under my chin. I can see this turning into some serious turkey neck as I get older.
I keep thinking that maybe if I lose weight I’ll lose the waddle but I’m seriously considering a surgical rememdy.
My band had some live performance shots done and we had to photoshop my waddle out of them to render them even useable. It’s depressing and really kind of pitiful.
I feel your pain. I am 44 and have the start of crepey neck. I hate it, too.
I never gave my neck a thought. I moisturized my face and never went to bed with makeup on etc–and my face is fine (being unable to go out in the sun has helped a great deal with that). BUT. The skin on my neck must be mm’s thinner than on my face, since it is starting to resemble tissue paper.
I have cultivated a look of mock turtle necks and regular turtles. Not ready for the whole “I’ve given up and here is yet another pretty scarf to hide my neck” thing.
<sigh> I was young and cute once. Not sure if I want to go back and actually be that person, but…
(and I feel shallow and stupid even mentioning it. I wish I could just be vain about my looks like some people and wallow in compliments. But no, I had to have a mother who drilled “pretty is as pretty does” in my head nine times a day. She has never told any of her daughters that they were pretty. Go figure. Whoops-thread as therapy. Sorry! but I tell my daughter she is pretty-because she is! I will also tell her to moisturize her damned neck!)
My neck is fine as well. The bags under my eyes betray me badly! And I swear if I don’t get to enjoy at least 6 months of DRY facial skin before I die (mine is still as oily at nearly 49 as when I was 16 and puberty first set in, in spite of a massive drying of the rest of my bodily skin thruout my 40’s, and in spite of the use of shine-free, non-oil, powdery-dry makeups AND a session of Accutane which definitely made the acne go away but did nothing for the oily condition!), I will consider that my time on the planet was absolutely disappointing.
At least necks can be hidden in the fall and winter, if you are in the right climate, beneath darling mock and turtleneck sweaters, and wrapped in glitzy scarves…you can decorate a neck! Baggy eyes and oily skin can only be hidden with a paper bag over my head!
–Beck, about to go blot the oil from my nose for the first of a dozen times today
For years I went through countless bucks buying the ‘miracle creams’ until one day I realized I could have had a neck-lift for all the money I had already spent on creams. I made an appointment that day with a cosmetic surgeon. It’s been nearly two years since my neck lift and I couldn’t be happier with the results. Sure, there was some discomfort at first but that soon passes and a 15 years-younger looking neck is what you’re left with. Prior to the surgery, I, too, struggled with the shallow, vain feelings regarding worrying so much about the way I look but, really, what’s the difference in having a neck lift and getting braces or coloring your hair (other than the $$$) ? Like it or not, many of us have been raised in a society that highly regards youth and beauty - it is hard to ignore that, especially when it’s your own youth and beauty that is fading. Just FYI, my cosmetic surgeon tells me that the only cream available on the market that truly makes a difference in your skin’s aging process is Retin-A.
Rock on. I have sisters who are 26 and I have told them to start moisturing their necks.
I have been lotioning my face nightly for the last 25 years, and I think I have a somewhat youthful look thanks to it (frequently told I look mid-30s rather than mid-40s).
About six years ago, at a Mary Kay party, the woman suggested starting in on moisturizing the neck, so I did. It’s looking a tad saggy, but I cling to the illusion that I have made some difference. But now that I am mid-40s, I’ve switched from using face moisturizer on my neck to using body lotion. Bring out the big guns!