Yes, I know. No one really wants to talk about aging, but as I used the pound of concealer to cover up the crevasses on my face, I figured it might be a good topic to approach. At the tender age of 47, I am feeling the arthritis set in, tired by 9, and really okay with eating an early dinner considered by most as senior citizen time. I don’t qualify for an AARP card….yet, but can see those bold letters coming toward me. To me, aging isn’t a curse. Those crevasses on my face, I earned them. The stretch marks and the saggy breasts, well, I earned them too. Childbirth, gravity, and God’s plan have all created what I call today the epitome of middle age.
The good news for me is that I inherited good genes. My mother is almost 83 and looks like she is in her 60s. Plastic surgery to lift, tuck, or cut the well-earned body that is my reality, isn’t on my list of things to do. I figure that gravity will still have some pull. (Pun intended.) I would much rather spend my money on ice cream and wine.
The best thing about getting older is how wise I am. Gosh, I look back and am baffled about how completely moronic I was and how amazing it is that I survived. Now, not everyone that gets older, gets smarter. There are still some people that make me wonder if getting older makes them dumber. I guess I am one of the lucky ones
With all of that said, when I see my reflection in the mirror, I give it a smile and am grateful that I have the means to buy all the concealer that I want. It is all about perception.