Amanda Marquis (50 over 50 Vol. 2)
She said she wanted to “see beautiful.”
She said she has never liked pictures of herself.
She cancelled her photo shoot three times, one part fear of seeing herself in pictures, and one part putting everyone else's needs first (career, a beloved father in hospice, a pregnant daughter).
The final time she rescheduled the photo session, she made it her birthday week and committed to it. It was a gift to herself—a bargain of sorts that put her at ease to enjoy.
“Your body has carried you this far in life—those laugh lines represent a lot of joy in your life. Make more memories to celebrate just how far you have come in this vessel called a body.”
“I now value this experience—I’m not afraid of pictures anymore. I felt free, alive and emotional during my photo session. I’m done critiquing all the things I was afraid of...my smile, my teeth, how much weight I gained or lost, etc. With others, I see all the beauty and positivity in them. Why was I not doing that for myself? Not once do I look at someone and think ‘Oh, they are heavy, their smile is crooked, their makeup looks bad.’ Why did I critique myself so harshly,” questioned Amanda?
“When I left the day of my photo shoot I thought I would be fortunate to have one picture I liked. But at the photo reveal session I was shocked and very emotional. All the years of not taking the pictures made me see myself in a totally different way. I couldn't believe how many of the photographs I liked when I thought there would be one, if I was lucky. I remember Susanna asking, ‘What will your daughter think of these pictures?’ and I remember saying, ‘She would be proud.’ It makes me emotional just thinking about that question again.”
A turning point in Amanda’s life was when she divorced an abusive man.
“I remember being so scared of the uncertainty, but on the day I left, the air was so refreshing and clear when I walked out of the house. He promised me I wouldn't have a dime to my name and I would never be anything without him. But rather than shrink, his words motivated me. I am now an owner of the Corner Cafe and went to school to get my healthcare administrator license. I’m financially independent and single. My household follows a schedule I dictate. I am focused and committed to myself,” she said.
In fact, Amanda values HERSELF more today than yesterday, and claims feeling old is in one’s mind, not their body. She’s learned positive thinking is a game changer, along with giving oneself grace and love.
“Your body has carried you this far in life—those laugh lines represent a lot of joy in your life. Make more memories to celebrate just how far you have come in this vessel called a body.
One thing I've learned is I'm not going to ever conform to what someone tells me I should or should not do ever again. I will live my life and not feel guilty for it—sure I may make mistakes but that’s where I have always grown the most,” says Amanda.
What would you tell your 20 year old self: Don’t listen to the rhetoric of what society says you should look like in your 20s, 30', 40s, 50s, 60s etc...it's all bullshit. Live your life and stop being so critical of yourself, and listening to others’ opinions. You're an amazing woman with the biggest heart for every one else—save some of that heart for yourself too. It's not the age, it is the living life you should be focusing on.
*As previously mentioned, during Amanda’s photoshoot experience she was also in the midst of losing her Dad to Alzheimer’s. When I asked her more about this part of her life, she felt the best way to express her feelings was to write a poem. Below are her words expressing her sadness and pain from this kind of loss.
You Know, Daddy…
You know, Daddy...I didn’t expect it to hit like this.
Not after everything.
Not after all those years of watching you fade.
Piece by piece, moment by moment…
I thought I was already grieving while you were still here.
I bought that duplex so I could be next door.
Close.
So we could help—Mom, Missy and me. We were a team.
Soothing confusion, managing meds, helping you walk or get through seizures
Holding onto the man you were
while meeting the man you were becoming.
But now…
Now that you’re gone, it’s like the grief came in a different form.
It didn’t knock on the door right away.
It waited.
It waited until I could no longer hear your voice.
And that’s why the pain is so deep, Daddy.
I don’t like forgetting what your voice sounded like.
I don’t like not hearing you say—“Hi, Punkin”
when I’d walk through the door.
Like you always did.
Even when your memory thinned
and your mind took strange turns,
you still said it.
“Hi, Punkin.”
Thank God you still remembered I was yours.
And now?
Now the silence is deafening.
And your 83rd birthday…
God, that destroyed me.
I thought I’d gotten used to the idea,
but that day…
it just... unraveled me.
I even miss the stories.
The same ones—over and over—
about your childhood, the greenhouses, all the trips to the Outer Banks.
I used to smile politely, maybe even roll my eyes a little. But now I’d give anything to hear them again.
Word for word.
Exactly the same.
You were my Daddy, Hailey's Poppy boy and now Grayson’s great-Poppy he’ll never meet.
Our anchor.
And watching you slip away bit by bit…
That was hard.
But losing the sound of you?
That’s unbearable.
You know, Daddy…I never thought there would be the day...that you’d be gone.