Why I’ve Decided to Stop Aging at 27

In our society, women are expected to look young and slim forever in the most natural way possible, without plastic surgery. The beauty industry rakes in billions every year off our insecurities, peddling creams and serums full of harmful chemicals that rarely work. And it’s not just vanity at play here: Studies have shown that older women face a hiring disadvantage in most industries. In our image-based society, the aging process hits women harder than ever—which is why I’ve decided to stop getting older right now, at my current age of 27.


Look around you. How many women do you see who look older than 27? Now ask yourself: Why? Why would you want to be over 27, knowing what happens to your metabolism, face, and body as you near 30? I have a friend who’s 32 and she has to wear bras all the time now, even for fun sundresses, because otherwise her boobs sag. I mean, what the fuck? Who would want that? Not me. I refuse to live in a tit prison and I will not submit to this patriarchal oppression.


I’ve seen how hard it is to be a woman over 27, and to that I say “No thanks.” Not for me. 27’s working just fine, so here is where I’ll stay.


Heartbroken at the idea of continuing to get more and more beat-looking, I let myself think about what aging might feel like. I hung out with my hot, mean boyfriend of four months who will probs betray me but I’ll bounce back quick because I’m 27 and I have neither children nor debt. I went to brunch with my friends and spent 2% of my total net worth on shitty eggs. I bought a Pilates Groupon and then, two hours later, returned it. After this time of soul-searching and healing, I realized something huge: We each create our own reality. If I wanted to stay 27 forever, the only thing standing in my way was me.



Not everyone is happy with my decision to stay 27. My mom tells me I should pick a more moderate path, like wearing sunscreen and eating veggies. My friends tell me I’m being unreasonable, and suggest maybe I should start by drinking fewer than 15 drinks per week. And even my doctor—a female doctor, I might add—looked me right in the face and said, “That’s impossible. People can’t just decide to stop aging.” What kind of doctor says that to her patient? (Actually a lot, because studies have shown medical professionals to be biased against women.) My hopes of staying in my late-but-cute twenties felt dashed, blown open like the pores on the sides of my nose would surely be. It seemed like my days of eating way too much and working out like twice a week if that to maintain my still-mostly-hot physique were over. But in spite of the naysayers and also reality, I chose to stay the course and remain 27 no matter what happens.


So here I am, two months before my 28th birthday, saying loudly and proudly that I will stay this way forever. I spent four harrowing hours at Occupy Wall Street, so I’m not afraid to stand up to oppressive, supposedly unstoppable forces. I will not be pushed around by bullies like time and the rules of the universe and “scientific facts”. For too long women have been coerced into going with the flow and accepting their lot. Well, not me. I’m staying right here at 27. Won’t you join me?