Botox, filler, lasers, lifts, these words roll off the tongue these days as casually as “coffee” or “groceries.” Somewhere along the line, “aging gracefully” was swapped out for “aging strategically.”

And let me be clear: I’m not here to shame anyone for what they choose to do with their own face or body. If you’ve had something done, that’s your choice, your autonomy, your expression. I am in FULL support of women doing what they want when they want. I don’t even need to hear a reason. I want too, has always been enough for me.

This is about how I’ve noticed a shift. It’s not really about if you’ll do it anymore, but when. There’s an expectation now. Aging isn’t treated as natural or beautiful, it’s treated like a problem to solve. And let’s be fr, that pressure falls hardest on women. Youth has become currency, while wrinkles and lines, signs of a life fully lived, are treated like warning signs that your value is about to expire.

I don’t buy it.

When I look at myself as I am right now, I see someone who is enough. More than enough. I’m grateful for this body the one that carried me, birthed my children, and keeps me moving through this life. Aging isn’t a threat; it’s proof that I get more time to live. Honestly, the idea of looking in the mirror and not recognizing myself of not seeing Ashley, scares me more than any wrinkle ever could. Even if “tox’d Ashley” looked a little smoother, or more even, she wouldn’t quite be me.

I also know the old scripts we’ve been told: the jokes about getting “traded in for a younger model,” the cultural whisper that women have an expiration date while men are applauded as “distinguished” as they age. But in my world, that myth doesn’t hold. My husband, without even realizing it, has set a different precedent for me his love, attraction, and respect have never hinged on how tightly I cling to youth. That security has given me the freedom to embrace myself as I am, without scrambling for injections or corrections. He put the cherry on top of my authentic confidence sundae.

So, to tox or not to tox? For me, it’s not. Not because I think it’s wrong. Not because I feel “above it.” But because I’m committed to what’s real for me: the gratitude, the groundedness, the joy of aging, and the refusal to let society’s obsession with youth define my worth. And truthfully? I’ve always liked me. Even as a messy, insecure teenager, I still thought I was cute, funny, and smart as hell. That’s never left me.

Part of my confidence comes from knowing I’m unique. I’m 1 of 1. IM THE ONLY ONEEE. (Iykyk) My face, my thoughts, my voice, they’re mine and mine alone. If I change my face, do I risk tampering with that source of confidence? And then there’s this: so much of what we call “beauty” is just trend driven. Trends change. How could I ever justify reshaping my face or body just to keep up with something so fleeting?

While writing this, I also thought about and started to expand on the effects of changing my face and what that means for my kids… But I am exhausted of mom and kid talk lol