I am pushing 40 with both hands.
I remember when 40 was old.
I’m not dreading growing old(er) all that much. I honestly don’t mind the numbers of years I am because I don’t feel a day over 33. I believe aging is both a state of mind and a physiological fact.
Sure it takes me longer to bounce back from the flu, lose the customary holiday five pounds I gain and hangovers feel like death, but I still feel 33.
It’s hard to believe that in just 15 short months, I’ll be ringing in a brand new decade.
Some of my best friends are already there, the big 4-0 and they exude high energy, vitality and youthfulness. They look amazing and I hope to be just like that in June, 2012.
Too bad there are always the ugly voices. You know the ones…. the voices in our heads that tell us that everything of value is young and new and I’m simply not anymore.
The voices that both criticize and curse every new wrinkle, flaw, blemish and gray hair that sprouts up.
The voices that convince that jumping out of an airplane, getting a tattoo, taking up pilates, learning a foreign language and getting Botox will make us feel and look young again.
Some days my face feels so disorganized. Everything is shifting and it’s almost as if it’s been hanging in the closet for too long. I feel unattractive, haggard and tired. Perhaps it’s just motherhood? I don’t feel that way on the inside, so it’s hard to witness the changes occurring on the outside.
If I’m lucky, every once in a while the voices subside and I recall why I have crow’s feet, furrows along my brow and lines around my mouth and I see the pure and simple beauty in them.
I’m proud of my lines and my age because I’ve earned them. I’ve laughed until I cried and cried until I laughed. I have lived, loved, lost, fell down, picked myself back up, traveled, read, seen, met, stuck my foot in my mouth, tasted, heard, touched, experienced, shared, learned and still want more!
I love each and every single line on my face because they make up my beautiful life. All 38 years of it, but only if I’m lucky.
This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing assignment, Red Writing Hood. This week’s prompt was to write a short piece, either fiction or non-fiction, about something ugly – and find the beauty in it.