Aging. It's The Pits. Period.

As of late, I have been completely overwhelmed with what is happening to my... well... my everything. I turned 35 this past year, and it has been a vicious, downward spiral ever since. I have never had to worry much about what I looked like. I never put much emphasis on it either, but I'm pretty sure that is because I always thought I was attractive. I mean, we all are in our teens and 20s... right? Even some of our early 30s? (Like, until 32...then you're done.) It's a breeze... Bright eyed (including the whites), smooth, unwrinkled skin, no puffy, under eye madness, and not a grey head or eyebrow hair, or pube to be found.  (Not that I have those dreadful bastards... but I'm sure they are not the 'myth' they used to be.) I look at pictures of my 20-something self, and think "My GOD... I was hot! Why did I think I was so fat, and worry about a bad hair day?" That is usually followed up with a "But... what the hell am I wearing!?!" Seriously... the 90s were not my best dressed era. I wore things like silver jackets that looked like moon man attire, suits, (yes... I said suits.) really short shirts... and wait for it...... overalls. I literally sported overalls like they were necessary. Like I was going to get hand picked for a Bell Biv Devoe video any second... but only if I wore them everywhere I went. With my ballet shoes. Always ballet shoes. (I guess I wasn't concerned with the fact that I'm short?) Wardrobe malfunction, after wardrobe malfunction... bygones. Clothing choices aide, I always had it goin' on. I turned a few heads, and it just didn't matter that much to me.  Cuz it just... was.

I really never have put much emphasis on appearance. I go to the store, school, even parties... with no makeup on, and in my sweats. I am pretty confident nobody could ever call me vain. My Mom told me being pretty is a curse... I ran with that. Who gives a shit? I don't even tell my daughter she is beautiful. Instead I focus on the fact that she is funny, smart and a really good friend. I have had some ishy life experiences that made me that way, and I embrace it. Who really cares what ya look like!? I'm not ugly... right? Until...

A couple of months ago, I happened to look in the rear view mirror in my car. On a sunny, bright, mustache enhancing light, day. It ruined my life. I was amazed/mortified/bewildered by what I saw. Things that had never really been 'my' problem, suddenly have reared their ugly heads. On my FACE! I have wrinkles on my forehead, like Rumpelstiltskin, that I now blame on my really bad sunburn in Mexico... when I was 17. I have a couple of grey hairs, which I blame on my kids and 2011. I have swollen, puffy, dark... business, under my eyes that make me wanna pinch them really hard until they just fall off. I blame those on Allergies and my Mom. I'm starting to develop crow's feet, and those little 'down your cheek smile lines'. I blame those on my Husband and Sister. They make me laugh too much. Don't quote me (Or make fun of me), but I think I'm starting to grow a beard? I'm not sure what to blame that on... but I'm gonna keep searching for something. It hurts my feelings... a lot. I can't hide my 10 extra pounds anymore. I blame that on the fact that that 10 extra pounds, has turned into 30 extra pounds. Good luck hiding that, fatty. :) I have a double chin. God forbid I make the 'kissy face' lips... My mouth, in that formation, is reminiscent of an elderly woman's anus. And that I blame on my years of smoking. While I was checking myself out in that mirror, and trying to breathe... even though my jeans were pretty much disemboweling me under that seat belt... It hit me. (Well... it actually 'hit me' when I made the kissy face, but whatever...) All of the things I blame my 'beauty demise' on are just parts of the problem. The real problem is really simple. All of these terrible things, that have suddenly started, are due to... Me. Being old. (Well... and the smoking.) I'm officially aging. It can't be reversed. I'm fucked. :(

From that day forward, I have neurotically checked everyone's forehead that I have come in contact with. I check their eyes. I try to get a glimpse of their stache in sunlight... but I always end up depressed. Even if you have those terrible things too... it doesn't make me feel better... because I also have them. Yours are just on you. And mine are on me. And I hate it... for both of us. I will think things like "Why do I have to have such bad allergy bags under my eyes? But at least I don't have her smile lines, or that frowny thing in between her eyes." Gross. Who IS this person I have become? I'm not supposed to care what I, or anyone else, looks like!! It's supposed to be irrelevant. Well... I guess the song "You Don't Know What You Got Till It's Gone" has just earned a new place in my heart. Goodbye, young, cute me. Hello older, less attractive, version of me. Me 2.0. I don't know how I feel about her quite yet.

With age comes wisdom. We all know that. With age, also comes a new found love of makeup, and anti-aging creams. It also brings a new found clarity about Botox, lasers, and Plastic surgery. All of the things I mocked, in my more attractive youth. (I now feel like I need to start a savings account, just for those purposes.) I'm sure I have painted a very pretty picture of my state of affairs these days. It probably isn't as bad as I think, (Just go with that, ok?) and it is only gonna get worse, but I can't help but wonder... Is it harder to start the aging process when you have been a 'looker' in your past? Like... something has been ripped away from you... and you miss it? Or... is it harder to start aging when you have never had 'being hot' on your resume? I guess it is what it is. We will all end up as wrinkled, old, prunes... with grey pubes... eventually. I'm just perplexed as to why it took me so long to notice it was happening to me! Denial is a magical thing. :)

I will eventually come to grips with, and accept all of this... (meanwhile, fighting it with everything I have.) :)  In some strange way, I feel sort of ok with some of it. My life hasn't been easy, and I have earned every bit of wisdom and strength these wrinkles and greys bring with them. Life is funny that way. You take so many things for granted, and then look back and think... What just happened? There is no use in sweating the petty. (Or even the Tom Petty, for that matter) Some things are inevitable. Tragic, but inevitable. My Husband and kids think I'm lovely, and that is really what matters. My Mom said to me the other day, "Honey, don't worry so much about aging. Pretty soon you'll be my age, and you won't be able to see. You will look in the mirror, and think you look GREAT!" I love her.

I will never be that 110 pound, little blonde, that walked into a place and turned heads... but I now look at those girls, and know that they, someday, will have learned all of their lessons, and they will hopefully have a lot more money than I do... to spend on Botox. :) Maybe I need to go buy some overalls. Just in case Bell Biv Devoe is looking for a middle aged, Suburban Mom... to push them around the nursing home. :)