Splattered across the media this week is Kristen McMenamy, a supermodel and mother of three who was featured on the August cover of Italian Vogue. She appears inside in a striking (some say offensive) photo spread, lying on her back against jagged rocks, wearing a black feathered dress, in a way designed to mimic the aesthetic of the Gulf oil spill images. But I was more intrigued by the model's hair: The 45-year-old boldly flaunts her naturally long gray locks, telling Vogue Daily, "You can get older and still be rock-'n'-roll. I thought all that gray hair would make a beautiful picture.

I'm a fan of embracing the way God made us, but I have to confess feeling a little conflicted about the hoopla. I suspect my reticence is not unrelated to the fact that McMenamy still has the body of a Barbie.

At age 41, I have most of my cranial pigment, but I see where things are headed. If I live enough years, if you live enough years, the physical downhill slide is inevitable. The pigment fails. Once-toned arms get flabby. Other things start to jiggle, sag, wrinkle. If all this weren't insulting enough, physical losses give way to social losses as we lose the ability to turn heads with our beauty.

As is my way, I like to make issues like sagging breasts and jiggly thighs theological. Specifically, I'm dying to get a handle on the divine logic behind the aging situation. What holy madness drives wrinkles and age spots?

I humbly invite you to join me in considering one weird possibility: I wonder if this process that is clearly happening against our wills—as the volume of beauty products that promise to reverse aging's attests—isn't what Jesus has been inviting us to embrace, all along, with our wills.

"Hold on, Margot. Jesus never ...

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