Wrinkles in Time
Aging. Yes, that's the topic that has recently been on my face mind. Have you stopped reading and run for the door? It's an uncomfortable topic for those over a certain age - which I won't set. I think you set your own "cross-over" point. Mine was 36.
When I turned 35, I was the least bit worried about aging. Other than the post-baby weight I was still trying to shed (hey - two babies in two years means I have two years to shed it, right?), I felt young, alive and there didn't seem to be too many wrinkles signs of time. Most of the changes I was grappling with were blamed on the after effects of birthing two children, and not necessarily the clicking clock.
Since turning 36 last May (only 4 years to 40!), I've thought about my age more than ever (well, maybe not as much as waiting to turn 21!). So what does a measly increase in digits have on me? What am I afraid of? I'm afraid that I won't turn heads anymore. That I'll not accept the new changes in the mirror. That my husband won't find me as attractive or sexy. That un-beknownst to me, I'm stuck in dated styles, looks and ways - and that no one will tell me. That I won't be hip. That I'll suddenly seek cosmetic surgery when I always claimed I'd never do that.
I have enough perspective to appreciate the knowledge and experiences that come with aging. And I'm thankful for them. I used to say if given a choice of two *magic* pills, one to increase intelligence, one to increase beauty, I'd always pick intelligence. But now I'm thinking beauty....
To get to the sagging bottom of it, I would have to say my struggle is about physical aging, not emotional, intellectual, or spiritual. The latter facets typically benefit from the passing of time. It is about the mirror.
I look at the reflecting glass with more intensity, more criticism. Noticing new age spots, bemoaning my ruddy complexion brought on by mild rosacea (which hits in the 30s) and recognizing new wrinkles like unwanted guest at a party. Lines aren't movie dialogue to memorize, but indentions at the corners of my lips. Bleeding is what your lipstick does.
It does not help when your husband is 6 years younger and just crossed the 30-threshold. My price to pay for robbing the cradle!
Honestly, I'd love to end this subject on some positive note -- "Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles were." Mark Twain -- or some inspiring self-acceptance moment. Not! The dust has not settled on this struggle for me. Only time with tell.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008 at 10:47AM |
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