#29 Crow's Feet: A Wrinkle is Worth a Thousand Smiles
Welcoming a face worn out by abundant joy
“Here comes her fake smile,” my parents would tease when it was time for picture-taking. They were talking about me.
As a little girl then, I didn’t understand what they meant. As far as I knew, I was smiling the way all the adults did: with my mouth stretched wide, lips parted, and my teeth — at least the ones I had — flashing. That is how you do it, right?
But as I grew up, I began to see it. Sure, my mouth was in a grin, but you couldn’t see my supposed joy across my face. My childhood pictures, cute as I was back then, looked as if I had been forced to be in that moment, forced to smile for the photo.
Now I'm sure that wasn’t the case! I just didn’t know that smiling with your lips is only half of it. I had yet to learn that what makes a genuine smile is one’s eyes.
Recently I noticed in my selfies that there’s a short, fine line extending from the outer corner of my eyes. The crease is subtle in some photos, deeper in others. At first, I thought, cool, I look like I have winged eyeliners! So whilst stuck in traffic like every other car-owning Filipino in Metro Manila, I thought I’d share my amusement on Instagram. (Well, with my Close Friends at least.)
But right before posting on my Instagram story, it occurred to me what those lines might actually be.
“Can anyone tell me if this is a sign of aging or something?”, I typed on my photo, already weighing in my mind if and how I can double down on my skincare, feeling myself pushing 30 faster than ever.
Nobody replied. (Thanks, Close Friends.)
So I ran to Google for clarity.
And I’m here to report that it is a yes. They are wrinkles. The humble beginning of Crow’s Feet.
Crow’s Feet are a commonly known phenomenon, but for the uninitiated, here’s the gist: They are the fine lines that form around your eyes. As you get older, more lines develop and branch out, and at one point, they begin to resemble Crow’s Feet. They’re one of the earliest wrinkles to appear because the skin around the eyes is thinner compared to the rest of the face.
But here’s what I didn’t know (and I’m not sure if enough people know this): Crow’s Feet is also known as “laugh lines” or “smile lines”. And these lines are particularly unique not only because they’re early birds (pun intended) of facial aging, but because Crow’s Feet, more than any other wrinkle, are expressive.
Imagine a piece of paper. Fold it lightly and you get a crease. Keep folding it the same way and you’ll see the mark of the crease harden.
Crow’s Feet develop the same way. Of course, there’s the loss of collagen and elastin to blame. But they’re also caused in large part by the tiny muscle contractions that happen during facial expressions. Every time you smile heartily or close your eyes from laughing too hard, it contributes to the formation of Crow’s Feet. At first, these lines, called “dynamic lines”, appear only when you’re making the expression. But over time these repetitions compound — and the wrinkles seal themselves on your face, staying visible with or without the expression.
This process transpires at different rates for every person, depending on factors like genetics, skincare routine, sun exposure, and lifestyle habits. But the fact is Crow’s Feet occur because of stuff we’d rather do or have more of in life.
If you’re surrounded by people with topnotch humor and often find yourself shaking with stomach-hurting, eye-squinting laughter, if your partner still finds small ways to make you smile and laugh every day, if you have a dog you can’t help but smile at for being a goofball or for his mischief or maybe even for merely existing, or if you’re simply the kind of person who poops sunshine and likes to greet everyone with the brightest smile, well, Crow’s Feet is right around your corner.
This article put it like this: “Find the joy in almost everything? You’ll have those pesky little laugh lines in no time.”
(Amusingly, the piece meant to share ways to prevent Crow’s Feet. I read that line and thought, Well, what a way to convince your audience.)
I don’t know about you, but if I could be gifted with the disposition and wisdom and hope to unfailingly find the joy in almost everything, I’ll take the “pesky little laugh lines” any day.
Crow’s Feet are a sign of aging. But they are equally, or perhaps more importantly, a sign of accumulated joy. They’re literally joy and laughter and fun engraved on your face.
Not surprisingly, as I was researching Crow’s Feet, I was inundated with articles on how to prevent, delay, or treat them. Resources will mention that it’s a natural process, but they will also say it’s something that “unfortunately” happens. They call these lines “pesky”, “unsightly”, or “unwelcome”. One website wrote: Can anything be done to reduce their appearance “once the damage has been done?”
I wonder: What if, instead of “Crow’s Feet”, they were more widely known as “laugh lines” or “smile lines”? Would we still fret about them as a sign of aging? Would we still take them as cues to buy high-grade retinol or to run to the dermatologist? Would we see them not so much as a defect, but as joy fossilized?
I’ve always strongly believed in the power of language. So much of how we see, navigate, and engage with the world around us is dictated by the language we use. Put another way, language is perception.
To me, it makes a visceral difference to know — to see — Crow’s Feet as “laugh lines” or “smile lines.” Maybe that comes off as cheap optimism, but I think it’s worth paying attention to the semantics. See, the thing with the term “Crow’s Feet” is that it focuses on what the wrinkles look like. I’ve never heard anyone talk highly of the image of crows, much less their feet. Meanwhile, the terms “laugh lines” or “smile lines” focus on how the lines came to be. Two valid terms, two different lenses.
As with most things in life, it’s all a matter of putting things in perspective. “It can be liberating to recalibrate the way we consider Crow’s Feet,” writes Liz Siegel. “To see them as something to be celebrated and embraced, not wiped away or wished away or filled or frozen or shellacked with a primer.”
When I had just started my newsletter, I would promote every new post on my Instagram story, kicking off the announcement with a selfie and my warmest smile. “It’s Skinny Deep Sunday!” Because it’s linked to my Facebook, my grandmother’s sister would reply and tell me in very grandmotherly variations how cheerful I looked. “You’re so cheerful it’s contagious!” “A cheerful princess!” “You cheerful maiden!”
I suspect it’s the smile (I know how to do it now!) — the way those tiny lines bring out the bliss in my eyes.
And as I grow older and watch those crinkles spread and harden on either side of my eyes, instead of berating myself for my minimal skincare routine, I’ll think of why those lines are even there. I’ll mentally run through the catalog of all the people who celebrated me. The friends I grew up with since high school, and all the times they cracked me up whether it be in real life or in our online chats. I’ll fondly recall my years as a dancer, how my friend once remarked: “You look so happy on stage!” I’ll remember the photo above — a memory of a night out after pandemic restrictions were finally eased — and how, capturing the moment, I thought, Man, I cannot remember the last time I laughed this much. And I’ll think about my family. The people who teased me about my fake smile — and then proceeded to give me all the opportunities to find and experience true joy in my life.
*180 degree smile plastered on my face* clicks on the heart button
"joy fossilized" — What a phrase!
But I love everything about this. The humor, the heartwarming memories, the much-needed shift in perspective.
I spent a lot of time in the past couple of years longing to laugh, really laugh, again. During those years, I'd often cringe anytime I noticed my "crow's feet." In the past few months, I have somehow found my way back to belly laughs, and they've become a daily (sometimes much more frequent) occurrence in my life. Coincidentally, I haven't felt any perturbation over my laughter lines during this time. Moving forward, even if I find myself devoid of laughter, anytime I spot wrinkles around my eyes, I will think of this post. Thank you!