Last week, someone I hadn't seen in years looked at me and said, "You haven't changed at all!"

I smiled. Thanked her. And felt a little flutter of validation I'm not proud of.

Because here's what she didn't know: I get my hair colored every eight weeks like clockwork. I've budgeted more for retinol this year than I spent on my first car. And just that morning, I'd debated whether spending a thousand dollars for a designer dress was better value than the same amount for a year of personal training sessions.

So it’s time to play "Would You Rather" again—that game where the questions start easy and then get progressively harder until you're forced to confront truths about yourself you'd rather not examine.

This time, we're talking about something I'm not entirely proud of: the part of me that still cares—maybe too much—about looking good.

Round 1: The Easy Questions

"Would you rather look younger or feel stronger?"

Easy. Feel stronger. Obviously. I've written and preached about choosing strength over skinny. I've embraced muscle over the number on the scale.

"Would you rather have glowing skin or good bone density?"

Also easy. Bone density. I'm not trying to break a hip at 60 because I prioritized serums over squats.

"Would you rather be admired for your wisdom or your appearance?"

Come on. Wisdom. I'm in my Second Spring. I've earned every gray hair and laugh line. This is the season where we're supposed to care less about what we look like and more about who we are.

Right?

Round 2: Where It Gets Uncomfortable

"Would you rather spend ₱5,000 on a facial or on a personal training session?"

...I need a minute.

I know the "right" answer. The personal training session builds strength, supports longevity, and is technically not an expense, but an investment in my health.

But that facial? It makes me feel polished. Put-together. Like I'm taking care of myself in a way that people can actually see.

"Would you rather hear 'you look amazing for your age' or 'you're so wise'?"

This is where it starts getting tricky.

The evolved, self-actualized version of me should want to hear "you're so wise." That's the compliment that acknowledges growth, experience, and depth.

But "you look amazing for your age"? That one still hits different. It still makes me stand a little straighter. It still makes me think, "I'm doing something right."

And I hate that I love it.

"Would you rather be invisible or irrelevant?"

Wait. That's not the same question, is it?

Except in my head, it is. Because when I imagine fully embracing my age—letting the gray grow in, skipping the skincare routine, wearing whatever's comfortable instead of whatever's flattering—I don't just imagine being seen differently.

I imagine not being seen at all.

Round 3: The Confession Round

Here’s what I actually do with my money:

Hair coloring: ₱8,000 every eight weeks. That's ₱52,000 a year. That’s the price for an annual gym membership. Or even seed money to start a side business. 

I have friends who've embraced their gray beautifully. They look stunning and confident. Like they've unlocked some secret about not giving a shit and going full Miranda from The Devil Wears Prada.

I am not one of them.

Skincare: I won't tell you the exact amount I spend on serums and creams, but let's just say my bathroom shelf looks like a Sephora stockroom. Not Botox-level spending (yet?), but enough that I stopped keeping the receipts.

But here's the calculation that takes the cake:

I saw on the website this dream of a dress. US$1,000 before customs and shipping. Beautiful cut. Perfect color. And one that celebs have proudly worn when they want to look like they’re not trying hard to be chic.

I also saw an ad for a training package: ₱50,000 for a full year of sessions that would build actual strength, prevent sarcopenia, support the longevity I claim to care about.

The dress would make an immediate impact. People would notice. Compliment.

The training sessions would make me stronger. Healthier. More capable of living independently at 75.

I choose the dress.

The Uncomfortable Truth About Beauty Currency

Here’s what we don’t say out loud often enough: attractive women have advantages.

They’re perceived as more competent. More trustworthy. More leadership material. They get better service, more grace, more second chances. And in our culture, “attractive” still largely means young-looking—or at least younger-looking than you actually are.

I know this because I’ve benefited from it. During my corporate career, and even now.

So even as I talk about internal health and self-acceptance, I’m still playing the game. When people are surprised I’m 52, I feel powerful. When someone compliments my skin, I take it in. When I’m treated with the kind of admiration usually reserved for younger women, I don’t push it away.

Is that using privilege? Yes.
Is it reinforcing the very system I say I want to change? Also yes.

Am I ready to opt out entirely?

I honestly don’t know.

The Question I’m Still Answering

“Would you rather glow up or grow up?”

The correct answer—the one I should give as the founder of a wellness brand for midlife women—is “grow up.”

Grow into your wisdom and grown into your confidence. Be the woman who no longer needs external validation because she’s built something real from within.

But the honest answer?

BOTH.

I want the wisdom that comes with age and the currency that comes with looking younger than my age.

I want to be taken seriously for my experience and benefit from the halo effect of looking “well-maintained.”

I want to embrace my authentic self and strategically present that self in the most favorable light possible.

Is that shallow? Maybe.
Is it feminist? Debatable.
Is it honest? Absolutely.

The Truth and Power in “Both”

Here’s what I’m learning in my Second Spring: maturity isn’t about pretending you don’t care about things you actually care about.

It’s about being honest about the contradictions.

A couple of weeks ago, I finished a set of back squats—the kind that build bone density and independence at 70. I caught my reflection and thought, You’re getting stronger.

And then immediately: But look at those crow’s feet.

Same moment. Same woman.

I didn’t choose one thought over the other. They just… coexisted.

I lift weights and I color my roots.
I want to be valued for my mind and still choose the dress that makes me look well-maintained.

I used to think growing up meant eventually outgrowing this tension. Becoming the woman who no longer cares at all.

I’m starting to think that was never the point.

So here’s the question I’m actually answering every day:

Would you rather be the woman you’re supposed to be—or the woman you actually are?

The woman I’m supposed to be has fully embraced her age. She doesn’t color her grays. She spends on health, not vanity. She radiates confidence that comes entirely from within.

The woman I actually am?

She booked her next hair appointment while writing this.

She believes in self-acceptance and still feels a quiet thrill when someone thinks she’s younger than she is.

She wants to change the system—and still knows how to work it.

She writes about her Second Spring and still mourns the first one sometimes.

She’s grown up enough to admit she still cares about the glow.

That’s not failure. It’s honesty.

Because if this Second Spring has taught me anything, it’s this:

Wisdom isn’t having all the answers.

It’s being brave enough to admit you’re still living inside the questions.