It hasn't always been this way. I have always looked young, felt young, acted young, and frankly, have had no intention of getting any older. I truly planned to remain 29 indefinitely. At 33, however, I am now faced with the fact that Father Time stops for no one. (Rat bastard).
Yeah, I can now see "those" lines around my mouth and eyes without a magnifying mirror. There's a weird wrinkle forming at the top of my nose. My skin is breaking out like a teenager's, and if you remember, I didn't have bad skin even when I was a teen. My sleep isn't as deep as it once was. I can't hold my liquor to save my life. (Not to mention the nasty hangovers). And I've actually had three random people tell me "I look good for my age" in the past month. For my age? What the hell am I supposed to look like at "this age?" Says who? And when I get a few more wrinkles, what happens? Will I be ridiculed behind my back, or will I continue to "look good for my age?" Can't I just look good despite the number of candles on my birthday cake?
Personally, all of this really pales in comparison to the other perils of getting old. Our society is obsessed with youth and I'm certainly no exception. At some point in my life, I picked up the notion that all things fun, exciting, and relevant happen when you are young. And all things boring, mundane, and insignificant take place when you are, well, old.
This, girlfriends, is my most pressing mission: to eradicate that belief and replace it with one that says I can have all the excitement and more from my 20s--when I'm in my 30s, 40s, 50s, and beyond. Even with wrinkles.
No comments:
Post a Comment