Jennifer Lawrence fell for the celebrity trap — and sacrificed the joys of aging gracefully

Every celebrity aims to be instantly recognizable: One look at that famous face should immediately conjure memories of your most memorable performances in the public mind.

That’s why this week’s “Call Her Daddy” podcast caused such an uproar — when viewers were forced to check the chyron to confirm they were watching one of Hollywood’s most famous actresses.

The interview with Jennifer Lawrence left even longtime fans scratching their heads, wondering why such a beautiful young woman would change her appearance so drastically.

Once one of Hollywood’s most distinctive personalities, Lawrence has lost the very flair that made her stand out in a sea of celebs who all look and sound the same.

She was one of the rare stars who seemed unafraid to make funny faces, act silly and say the most unexpected things on the red carpet and in media interviews.

That irreverence was the hallmark of her best roles — and added to her sex appeal. 

Now, Lawrence looks like any number of women in California with enough money to buy a new face.

And with that generic face seems to have come a generic personality to match.

On the podcast, she explained her reasoning for the work: “I want to be a sexy mom. At drop-off, I want to look like a woman that has her s–t together even when I’ve just woken up and don’t have my s–t together.”

That’s the tell — Lawrence isn’t chasing beauty.

She’s chasing other people’s approval — so concerned with how she might be perceived at school drop-off that she’s willing to go under the knife.

The most freeing thing about getting older is shedding the crippling self-consciousness that defines so much of girlhood and young womanhood.

As teenagers, we agonize over what our peers think.

We obsess over our clothes, our bodies, our popularity and whether the boys we like might like us back.

In our 20s, those insecurities morph into the concerns that define successful adulthood, at work and in dating. 

And then, for many women, something wonderful happens: We get older, get married and have children.

After years of hustling, we build careers, homes, friendships and the lives we’d dreamed of. 

Our 30s and 40s should be the golden age of not giving a damn what anyone thinks.

We’ve earned the right to show up at school drop-off in yesterday’s sweatshirt looking like we just rolled out of bed, without wondering whether others think we’re successful or pretty.

We’re not there to impress them or meet a guy; we’re just there to launch the day.

That’s what makes Lawrence’s explanation so depressing.

Here is a woman who has achieved everything our culture tells young women to strive for: She’s beautiful, famous, rich, professionally successful and, to top it off, happily married with children.

She has nothing to prove to anyone. 

And yet, she can’t let go of her self-consciousness.

Instead of enjoying the freedom that should come with having it all, she’s worried about whether the other mothers in the carpool line think she’s hot. 

With advances in technology, women of our generation have taken our age-defying efforts to the next level. 

Our grandmothers used serums, and our mothers may have gone the Botox route.

Now, as a new generation of women hits middle age, the influence of celebrities like Lawrence is pushing them even further. 

I get the urge: Over the last three years, I’ve upped my game in the makeup and clothing arenas, giving myself the glow-up that’s possible once the chaos of babies and toddlers settles down.

But there’s a difference between taking pride in your appearance and being so terrified of aging that you’ll undergo surgery to erase the very features that make you recognizable.

It’s a cruel irony that women spend so much of their youth longing to be taken seriously as adults, only to spend adulthood desperate to look young again.

We should choose to celebrate the wisdom and self-assurance that comes with age — not treat every sign of aging as a battle against our own bodies.

One of the most appealing aspects of Lawrence’s persona was her total lack of insecurity.

She could have brought that energy into her next decade, with the captivating confidence that’s the true hallmark of sexy momhood.

Instead, she’s making herself interchangeable with every other middle-aged woman chasing the fantasy of plastic youth. 

Lawrence doesn’t need to look like the hottest mom at school drop-off (though she probably already was, ironically enough).

She didn’t need to look 25 forever.

She was already beautiful, accomplished and beloved.

The tragedy isn’t that she’s getting older; it’s that she seems unable to recognize the gifts that aging brings.

Bethany Mandel writes and podcasts at The Mom Wars.

The post Jennifer Lawrence fell for the celebrity trap — and sacrificed the joys of aging gracefully appeared first on New York Post.