April 2025

You got to hand it to Aimee Lou Woods for calling out the performers on Saturday Night Live for their depiction of her on The White Potus. The sketch made me laugh, albeit ruefully, at the mess that the Trump Administration has made in record time. But why then punch down and latch on to the obvious dig by targeting her looks? Well, IMHO, that’s just lazy, and as Woods said, ‘mean and unfunny’.  It was the weakest moment in an otherwise clever skit.

 

I for one, am DELIGHTED that Woods has never had her teeth fixed, for the primary reason that they don’t need fixing. Au contraire, I think they add a delicious vulnerability to her look. And what’s more, there’s a defiance, an audacity even, in refusing to conform to the Hollywood beauty aesthetic. How wonderful in fact, to be gloriously distinct. Take a look around if you’re out of a Saturday night. Modern beauty trends seem to dictate a certain uniformity-same hair, same brows, same highlighted cheekbones. This is entirely at odds with the message of body positivity; urging everyone to be themselves, but only if they look like everyone else.

 

But let’s get back to teeth. My friend was telling me about a trip to the dentist shortly after having her third child. ‘Ever thought of getting a brace?’ he asked her as she was leaving. My friend shook her head. (I mean, who thinks about a brace when they’ve a child still in nappies? I was lucky to even have time to brush my teeth, never mind worrying about correcting them.) You never believe what he said to her: ‘It would fairly improve the look of your face.’

 

Can you IMAGINE hearing the like of that? I think it’s shocking. ‘Nah, you’re alright,’ she said, and went on her way. I think that was very generous of her. He’d want to be careful, making comments like that: if he’d said that to me he might have needed a full set of dentures after being clobbered round the face with his own drill.

 

Then there was this: I got a message on Instagram the other day from a local aesthetician, cordially inviting me in for a treatment of my choosing, which I could then document for my social media. I politely declined. It’s a road I don’t want to go down, because I don’t think I’d ever be satisfied: it’s like when you buy spangly new cushions to spruce up your living room, but they only make your knackered sofa look worse.

 

Do you want the truth? Of course I’m not happy with my face- it’s lines and creases show with painstaking honestly, every one of my forty-five years. Catch me from the wrong angle and I’m a wizened old crone. But I’d much rather spend my money on a weekend away with my friends, reminiscing about our riotous adventures in our youth, and making new memories together. That would bring me infinite more pleasure than someone coming at me with a syringe full of salmon sperm.

 

But listen, as my yoga teacher says, ‘You do you.’ I have zero business making judgements about how people choose to look. I do worry though, that the boom in aesthetic procedures could make people feel that they ought to aspire to a certain ideal. And that takes a lot of time, energy and cash.

 

Be fabulously imperfect, and embrace the feautures that make you authentically you,. I’m thinking of starting a savings account: if I toss in all the money I could have sent on dermo fillers and skin boosters, I might be able to afford a trip to some White Lotus resort myself to drink Mai Tais by the pool. Now that is the dream…