I’ve Got Fucking Crow’s Feet

A reframing spell for our wrinkles

Dear nerds¹,

I had professional author photos taken last week. Exciting, right? (Yes, I ticked off an item on my swimming pool list.)

My friend and photographer Lillie Louise is amazing, and found the balance between my immediate need to goof off and capture a “serious author photo” appropriate for my debut novel.

When the email arrived with the gallery link, I hesitated. I’ve never enjoyed looking at myself and avoid my reflection in the gym mirrors like a Hunger Games challenge.

With excited nervousness, I opened up the gallery. I saw photos of a middle-aged witchy, no shits giving author. Chef’s Kiss! Exactly what I need for my website.

I uploaded my favorite photo into my homepage template and that’s when I saw them.

Crow’s feet.

Not delicate fine lines. Actual, unmistakable crow’s feet radiating from the corners of my eyes.

I stared, slightly horrified. The last time I had professional photos taken by Lillie Louise, these lines weren’t there. Or at least, they weren’t camera-obvious. Now they’re front and center in high def!

The Aging Ambush

Enter the emotional spiral! Here I am, writing about embracing midlife transitions as sources of power, and I’m having a mini-meltdown about eye wrinkles? Fuck!

I’m supposed to be cool with aging. I’m supposed to be reclaiming my power and giving society’s expectations the middle finger. But in that moment, all I could think was: holy shit, I look old.

Because that’s the thing about internalized ageism—it doesn’t disappear because you’ve decided it should.

These thought patterns are like underground roots of a patriarchal dandelion you thought you’d already pulled.

No matter how much I intellectually reject society’s bullshit about women needing to look young forever, those messages have been mapping, connecting and growing in my brain since my birth.

The Witchy Reframe

My friend Ann (Thank you xo) saved me with one perfect observation: “Crows and witches are fantastic friends.”

And just like that, everything shifted.

Instead of seeing signs of decay when I look at my crow’s feet, I now see my connection to these folklore allies. Birds who recognize faces, remember kindnesses, and hold grudges (relatable as fuck).

Suddenly, having crow’s feet feels less like a failing and more like witch-identifying marks that say, “Yeah, I’ve seen some shit, and I’ve laughed through a lot of it.”

The Reality Check

Of course, most people will probably view my website on their phones, where those lines will be about the size of an eyelash. All that middle-aged angst for nothing.

But the, ugh, lesson remains: The uncomfortable aspects of aging won’t magically vanish because I’ve decided to be totally cool with everything.

That’s part of the process too. The annoying reckoning with our own contradictions—how we can simultaneously believe aging is a privilege while being furious about the implanted expectations.

The Spell: Notice, Name, Reframe

We can’t change these ingrained thought patterns overnight - I WISH! But we can reveal them, question them, and reframe them.

The spell works like this:

1. Notice the uncomfortable thought (“I look old”)

2. Acknowledge it without judgment (“Interesting that I’m upset about this” - eat six girl guide cookies)

3. Question its source (“Who told me this was bad?” - oh right, fucking everyone)

4. Create a new meaning (“My crow’s feet connect me to magical, intelligent beings” - Ah, yeah. Feel the power!)

It’s not about toxic positivity or pretending everything’s fine. It’s about creating new neural pathways that serve us better than the ones society installed without our consent. We are rebooting the system!

Even though I do feel lucky to be here AND recognize the privilege of aging, I’m still finding many enchanted snares in my midlife forest.

With love and hoping you can pull a couple of your patriarchal dandelions,
Annabel
xxoo

Ps. I’m committed to creating more crows feet with loud, maniacal laughter!

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1. I’m using nerds in the best possible way. Nerdship: How we love a thing with such veracity that we annoy others, and then one magical day we find other people who feel the same way about the thing we love. That is nerdship.