In about 3 months is the date of my 10 year Highschool Reunion. When I think about the fact that I have been out of highschool for TEN years, it’s a shock. I can’t believe it’s been so long. Sure, it feels like a memory at this point, and NOTHING from that time feels vivid enough for me to stupidly reminisce and say “it feels like just yesterday!”… hell no it doesn’t, and i’m glad- but it certainly doesn’t feel like a decade has passed.
To some, being ten years out of highschool seems young. Fresh. And I guess it is; 28 isn’t “old” by any standards (if you ask anyone who is over 30, that is).
I was feeling pretty damn young until this past year. My health was great, my skin didn’t bother me, I had no noticable or chronic aches and pains. Sure, there were areas I wanted to improve upon, isn’t there always? But as a whole I didn’t look in the mirror and think
“Who is that old woman staring back at me?”
I am not sure of any planetary shift that occurred, or any potion from an evil witch I may have consumed- but over the past year I have noticed changes. And these are not changes that excite you like the sprouting of ta-ta’s or becoming old enough to where your parents allow you to wear makeup and put on heels over 1/2 inch high. These are the changes that most women dread. Cross fingers and toss salt over their shoulders in hopes that somehow they got the GOOD genes.
Dear god, don’t let me age like my mother/grandmother/sister/aunt!
Suddenly I had grays, and not just one, but it seemed like a bunch appeared overnight. The lines in my forehead i’d noticed since childhood suddenly became what could be considered wrinkles. WRINKLES! My face suddenly seemed more thin, the fullness looked to be sucked the hell out. I never thought I had chubby cheeks, but comparatively I was a chipmunk, or that’s what I saw looking in the mirror. Elasticity? Shot. I thanked my lucky stars I had yet to develop crows feet, but looking at pictures of myself smiling- there they were staring back at me.
I have chronic back pain and aches in places I wasn’t sure could ache. Nothing sits the same way as it used to, and I can’t eat half a pizza without regret. Each night I find myself more exhausted than the previous and throwing in the towel, why fight it? I need sleep. But why am I SO TIRED?
Who was this new, but older woman? How did I not see it coming? Did I just ignore it for that long?
How did this happen? I’m just barely past a quarter-life crisis… they don’t make cards for breakdowns at 28. Was it the kids? Heredity? Environmental factors? Stress?
If it took me this long to become comfortable with how I looked before, how was I expected to do it all over again? How do you accept not just getting older, but looking and feeling older?
I went from rarely ever even having to wash my face and having near perfect skin to anti-aging serums, wrinkle creams, and a process that takes me twice as long just to crawl my achy old ass into bed. I went from exercising 5 days a week without even feeling winded to having pain that scares me from doing much of anything in fear I will make it worse, or i’ll fall and not be able to get up.
I loathe the neighborhood middleschoolers, call highschools “kids” and yes, I even think new music sucks and is way too loud.
It’s not that I don’t think older women are beautiful, it’s that i’m not sure older ME will be. I’m not sure who older me is. I’m not sure how to accept it, or if I can.
Certainly we all don’t have the money for plastic surgery, or botox… and I don’t think we’ll be finding the fountain of youth in my lifetime or have some wacky scientist discover that melting down ear wax and wearing it all over your body like Buffalo Bill did with skin reverses aging.
Should I be thankful not to have suitcases under my eyes? No hair thinning? No early onset menopause? No age spots or smile lines?
But i’m ONLY 28!!!
I guess there is beauty in acceptance… or at least that’s what I am told. I’m sure i’ll get there someday… even if it takes me another 27 years to do it. And by that time, i’m sure i’ll have something new to bitch about.
Is there a beauty in bitching? Because if so, i’m the youngest hottest thing around.
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