I have a lot of freckles. Lots of them. Enough so that when I tan, I freckle and instead of looking tan, it's like my freckles sort of grew together to form a tan. It is worse on my shoulders, where I have huge sun spots. When I look at Nathan, I see that smattering of freckles across his cheeks. I know he get this from me. Nevertheless, I am always slightly surprised when I look in the mirror and see the freckles on my face. I do not wear much makeup, either, so they are quite apparent.
I am also startled when I see that crease between my eyes. Now, when gazing at the computer, I deliberately try to relax my face and not have that concentrated look. I would be a prime candidate for some kind of procedure, but I have never met anyone in real life who has had botox or anything else. Am I so concerned about my face and growing older that I would do this? I do not know. It's not really on the table for me. But, hey, if you have any experience or could recommend a good cream, let me know, okay?
Hands, skin - they still seem okay. It's really just my face. Oh, and those grey hairs that make me run to the hair salon every seven weeks. While I sat in the salon chair last week as my stylist was mixing the color, I had a chance to look at all the grey winding its way through my hair. There was a lot.
So, when I was a kid, I am not sure what I thought forty looked like. My parents were young - just barely in their 40's when I graduated from high school. They seemed young to me then - not their age, you know? Even now, I do not see their age when I see them.
When I picture myself in my mind, it is at about 32 / 33 years old. Not young, but not old. Just the perfect age where you sort of have life figured out, are comfortable with who you are, and have the means to do a little more than you did 10 years before.
Still, I look forward to forty and beyond. I hope I grow old gracefully.
Labels: me me me