"IF YOU DON'T LOVE ME AT MY WORST..."
On redemption-via-hotness
“We are so back!”
“Finally, the (insert name of female celebrity) I remember”
“She looks so much happier.”
I’ve seen an endless stream of comments like this under current photos of Christina Aguilera, Lindsay Lohan, and most recently, Selena Gomez. All three of these women have the same thing in common: a glow-up that seems to have magically rolled back the gears in God’s Rolex, leaving these ladies looking just as they did 10, 15, even 20 years ago. The response of the public has been so ardent that I wouldn’t even classify it as admiration at this point— it reads as relief. Watching women age, it seems, is a bad dream for many. These glow-ups seem to evoke a feeling best described as “crisis averted.” I hate this.
To clarify, it’s not the makeovers themselves I hate. I hold no judgments in that department. It’s the fact that these “perfected” versions are automatically perceived as the healthiest, happiest iteration of the person. Visible aging and weight gain are interpreted as signs of depression, lethargy, and (my personal favorite), giving up. Botched surgeries and bad Botox are seen as a sign of mental illness and grotesque vanity, as if a surgeon’s skill (or lack thereof) is directly related to the moral character of the patient. In a culture where beauty is good and ugly is bad, a good facelift isn’t just an aesthetic victory, it’s a moral one.
Christina, Lindsay and Selena have another thing in common: they’ve all been dragged to hell for looking overweight and/or haggard and/or puffy and/or “overdone” in recent years. Christina had basically been written off as a has-been by 2010 even as she continued to deliver flawless vocal performances. The agility of her instrument no longer mattered; the fact that she’d aged in the face and gained 20 or 30 pounds had doomed her to obsolescence like a bulky Dell PC. When she emerged in 2024 looking skinny, refreshed and eerily like her teenage self, pop fans were jubilant. Suddenly, Christina Aguilera was cool again, sharing the stage with Sabrina Carpenter and inspiring a million commenters to parrot some version of the same insipid remark: Drop the name of the surgeon, queen! As if any of these stars ever would. As if you could afford it.
Lindsay Lohan is an even more fascinating case study, because people have decided having a taut, radiant new face automatically means: happy, sober, back. I’m not saying that isn’t the case— Lindsay appears to be enjoying marriage and motherhood, and there’s no question that she looked incredible at the Vanity Fair party on Sunday. But would people be assigning the same narrative of joyful wellness to Lindsay if she hadn’t had a facelift (or whatever it is that she did)? If Lindsay had showed up to the carpet with the typical features and complexion of a 38 year-old fair-skinned former smoker and recovered addict, would people be as parasocially “proud” of her? Would her sobriety and success be as inspiring to people if she didn’t have a tastefully rejuvenated face to match? I’m guessing the narrative would be different. Skeptical, even. Nobody likes a hard 38, even if she’s healing on the inside.
Finally, there was a comment under a photo of Selena Gomez this week that really stuck with me. Selena (who is only 32 years old but is apparently required to look 18) was also at the Oscars, slim and stunning in a beaded gown. The comments were as expected (“Mother” “Thanks, Ozempic” “She’s back!”) but here’s the one that got me: “THIS is what I mean when I say ‘Selena Gomez!’” Apparently the only valid Selena Gomez is a thin, glowing Selena Gomez who does not appear to be experiencing any side effects of the several medications she’s been open about needing to take. THIS is Selena Gomez, guys! Not that unpleasant thing that was masquerading as her all these years! Thank God we’re back. We are so back.