The way we talk about women like Amanda Holden reveals one of our deepest fears

There is a trope in movies and TV that occurs so often I’m not sure we even notice it anymore: a woman stands in front of a mirror and uses the palm of her hands to lift her face. Usually, she hones in on her forehead, lifting her eyebrows and eyes to the place where they perhaps used to sit. It’s a brisk, lazy way of telling an audience, “this woman is feeling haggard”.

As a child, I never understood exactly what they were doing, these women who appeared entirely normal looking, if a little tired. Why they were dragging at their skin and seeming disappointed in their efforts? But now, as I approach my 33rd birthday, I find myself looking in my own mirror, making the same motions and tweaks and wondering when exactly the work of gravity began, and what I should be doing to stop it.

The recent chatter on Lorraine about Amanda Holden’s performance at her daughter’s 18th birthday party has me thinking of the reflections in all of these mirrors once again.

This is not the first time such allegations have been levelled against Holden. Last year, she was accused of “flaunting” and “parading” her figure during discourse about her nipples, and when she was asked why she so often appears braless, she responded: “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

She told The Mirror: “I’m not braless. The fact is, I’m wearing SKIMS [bras], but my nipples are always affected by the cold. There’s nothing I can do about it.

“It’s like the Princess And The Pea – 20 mattresses down and you still see my nipples. They show through anything. They’re like my compass. Point away, I’ll never get lost.”

Before that, there was similar conversation about Holden’s missing pants (the actress posted a gravity-defying snap on Instagram of herself wearing nothing but a blazer, prompting some fans to ask “where her pants are”).

That followed debate over the 52-year-old advertising lingerie from JD Williams. The reaction on Twitter was as you’d expect; compliments peppered with nauseating “puns” about golden buzzers, and even one man informing her he “prefers Carol Voderman”. Others express dismay at her gall, to be mostly undressed beyond her 20s. Being “inappropriate” is something she’s been accused of before.

So I ask myself; what do I think when I look at her, this fellow woman, nearly 20 years my senior, in her knickers? I’ll be honest, my first thought is one of cynicism, and perhaps of self-preservation: privileges such as an expensive personal trainer and gym membership must have helped her along.

I forgive myself for this. I was raised on magazines telling me what beauty was while being slick with airbrushing, but eventually, the voices of those desperately trying to make such falsifying of a woman’s appearance more transparent became the louder of the two.

But my second thought? I didn’t know you could have a body like that past 50. It’s a thought I recognise from when I first saw the 2019 movie Hustlers, in which J-Lo played a businesswoman and stripper with arguably the most incredible, toned (and most notably, strong) body I’ve ever seen. She was also 50 at the time. My friends and I exclaimed that we couldn’t believe she could be so physically able at that age.

Yes, a myriad of messages from older generations about femininity and appearance have reached us, and embedded in our psyche. We can suspect cosmetic surgery and respect that a woman has the right to do what she wants with her own body. We know that we can’t be expected to look like those in the media because we don’t have a weekly facialist, an at-home barre studio, tailor-made outfits. But these encouraging reminders are yet to be joined by one stating with equal conviction that age does not equal weakness or faded beauty.

Time passed, I forgot about Hustlers, and Amanda’s incredible body took me by surprise yet again. Airbrushing and financial means entirely aside, both women’s bodies are ones of hard work, sweat, dedication and discipline. I’m in awe, to be honest.

There is a cost to not celebrating women ageing, and tearing them down for simply having the audacity to display a beautiful and strong body. It does damage to every single generation, and every woman. We are shortchanging ourselves and burdening ourselves with a dread that we need not have.

My face looks the way it does now because I have scream-laughed with my best friends, I have stayed awake to see sunrises in hot, foreign countries, I have sung and danced and taken risks and failed and lived.

Ageing is a privilege – it’s not something we need be afraid of. I choose to be inspired and excited by these photos of Amanda, and not just welcome this new voice in my head, but nurture it and share it aloud. You should, too.