Jennifer Aniston bares it all (literally, technically, you name it!) for Allure magazine for their December 2022 edition. The 53-year-old donned risque outfits for the shoot by photographer,Zoe Grossman and interviewer, Danielle Pergament.
The Friends alum talked about her distaste for social media, trying IVF, Friends and family.
What a beautifully written and witty article. Read below;
“I hate social media.”“It’s torture for me. The reason I went on Instagram was to launch this line,” she explains. “Then the pandemic hit and we didn’t launch. So I was just stuck with being on Instagram. It doesn’t come naturally.”
“I’m really happy that we got to experience growing up, being a teenager, being in our 20s without this social media aspect,” she says. “Look, the internet, great intentions, right? Connect people socially, social networking. It goes back to how young girls feel about themselves, compare and despair.
“I feel the best in who I am today, better than I ever did in my 20s or 30s even, or my mid-40s. We needed to stop saying bad shit to ourselves,” says Aniston, scolding her future self: “You’re going to be 65 one day and think, I looked fucking great at 53.” Something in her tone makes me think that this isn’t a typical “I’m proud of my wrinkles and gray hair” platitude. This goes deeper.
“I would say my late 30s, 40s, I’d gone through really hard shit, and if it wasn’t for going through that, I would’ve never become who I was meant to be,” she says. “That’s why I have such gratitude for all those shitty things. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck being this person that was so fearful, so nervous, so unsure of who they were.” She finishes her smoothie and reaches out to Chesterfield. “And now, I don’t fucking care.”
“I was trying to get pregnant. It was a challenging road for me, the baby-making road,” says Aniston, of a period several years ago.
On the scale of dumb things to say, this is the moment when I really hit it out of the park. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, nobody does,” she replies graciously. “All the years and years and years of speculation… It was really hard. I was going through IVF, drinking Chinese teas, you name it. I was throwing everything at it. I would’ve given anything if someone had said to me, ‘Freeze your eggs. Do yourself a favor.’ You just don’t think it. So here I am today. The ship has sailed.”
“I have zero regrets,” she says. “I actually feel a little relief now because there is no more, ‘Can I? Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.’ I don’t have to think about that anymore.”
“narrative that I was just selfish,” she says. “I just cared about my career. And God forbid a woman is successful and doesn’t have a child. And the reason my husband left me, why we broke up and ended our marriage, was because I wouldn’t give him a kid. It was absolute lies. I don’t have anything to hide at this point.”
“I remember in high school doing a Chekhov play,” she says. “It wasn’t funny, and I was making it funny. And my teacher said, ‘Why don’t you just be funny because you have it in you?’ And I was like, ‘How dare you? I’m a dramatic actress!’ Turns out, it was the thing that saved my life, comedy. It was a salve to make people laugh.”
“There are people who say that watching Friends has saved them during cancer diagnosis, or so many people with just so much gratitude for a little show,” she says, her eyes glassy with tears. “We really loved each other and we took care of each other. I don’t know why it still resonates; there are no iPhones. It’s just people talking to each other. Nobody talks to each other anymore.”
Well, we’ve come this far. “Would you ever get married again?”
“Never say never, but I don’t have any interest,” she says. “I’d love a relationship. Who knows? There are moments I want to just crawl up in a ball and say, ‘I need support.’ It would be wonderful to come home and fall into somebody’s arms and say, ‘That was a tough day.’”
“I feel like I’m coming through a period that was challenging and coming back into the light,” she says. “I have had to do personal work that was long overdue, parts of me that hadn’t healed from the time I was a little kid. I’m a very independent person. Intimacy has always been a little here,” she extends her hand an arm’s length in front of her. “I’ve realized you will always be working on stuff. I am a constant work in progress. Thank God. How uninteresting would life be if we all achieved enlightenment and that was it?”
“I’m going to do that one day,” she says. “I’m going to stop saying, ‘I can’t write.’” We walk back out to the garden. “I’ve spent so many years protecting my story about IVF. I’m so protective of these parts because I feel like there’s so little that I get to keep to myself. The [world] creates narratives that aren’t true, so I might as well tell the truth. I feel like I’m coming out of hibernation. I don’t have anything to hide.”
“If you were writing the story of your life,” I ask, “what would you call this chapter?”
“What would you call this chapter?” Murmur, repeats. We look out at Los Angeles, blurry in the late afternoon smog.