The
other day, right before my children came home from school, I caught my
reflection in the mirror.
Crow’s
feet. Laugh lines. A hint of jowls. Wispy hairline. Downturned mouth. Divots between the eyebrows. When did my arms get so… paunchy?
I
studied myself for a few moments and looked away, despairing, disappointed. My kids are too young to have a mother who
looks like this. I have only myself to
blame; I don’t take care of myself as well as I could, opting for the couch more often than moving around. I started
sitting more just when it was starting to get harder to stand up.
In
addition, I’ve become more lenient with my eating and drinking habits. Second glass of wine? Don’t mind if I do every night. Do we have ice cream?
When
did my reflection become difficult to bear?
In my younger years, hours were spent holding my own gaze in the
mirror. Expressions: I had a thousand,
and I practiced them all on myself, tearing myself away only when I was
satisfied at the resulting effect of a slight eyebrow arch, a wry half-smile.
Now
I only gaze into the mirror to investigate stray eyebrows, examine rogue
pimples and oh look, another gray hair.
The selfie – what a joke. It’s
unforgiving, unwanted, unnecessary.
Worse:
I struggle to keep my weight from fluctuating.
Merely glancing at cookies seems to cause my waist to expand. I need
a full-throttle fitness regimen to keep me in my jeans, two-and-a-half hours a
day at the gym. The just wait until you’re older comments that well-meaning relatives
threw my way when I was a kid as I’d inhale a quarter of the Thanksgiving gravy
ring in my ear.
My
metabolism didn’t even say goodbye.
I
feel old.
It
wasn’t that long ago that a friend and I were chatting about how annoying it is
when people age and they announce how too
old they are for the activities of life anymore, as if age naturally precedes
intolerance for all things previously enjoyed.
I’m too old for roller coasters.
I’m too old for screaming babies.
I’m too old for loud concerts, crowds at the mall, staying up too late,
eating nachos at midnight, watching cartoons and wearing short shorts.
That
was over five years ago.
I
was still in my thirties then.
Mid-thirties.
I
can still rock out at a concert, stay up late, listen to screaming babies, ride
roller coasters, brave the mall crowds, wear short shorts, and the other day my
husband changed the channel because he thought I wasn’t watching Steven
Universe. That show is so weird.
I
will not eat nachos at night, nor do I particularly want to. Roller coasters are fun, though they give me
a headache. I’m only half old.
But
the reflection doesn’t lie. And there’s
nothing to do about it. Two-and-a-half daily
hours at the gym might help my metabolism, but it can’t keep jowls from
forming.
I
want to look younger and feel better, to hold
my gaze just a little longer. Don't we all? But time
doesn’t travel backwards, and I don’t have a lot of money, so my options are
limited.
I ran to my purse, grabbed my makeup bag, and put on some lipstick. Instantly I felt better. Turns out all I needed was a little
color.
What
has my life come to, that I apply lipstick in the middle of the day, right before
my middle schoolers come home, to make myself feel better? Likely they wouldn’t notice if I had teeth on
my chin or ears for eyes.
Which, in a few years, might be an improvement.
*******
I hear you. I think about all that I ate when I was younger and I can hardly believe it. Turning forty sent my metabolism packing. I wouldn't say that I feel old, but half-old? Yes.
ReplyDeleteAnd crowded malls give me a headache.
I remember sitting at the table at holidays and eating one of each dessert that Grandma made. If I did that now I'd gain ten pounds immediately.
DeleteHonestly, I think you look pretty good. Seriously, dude.
ReplyDeleteBut some lipstick never hurt anybody. :)
Thanks, friend. And lipstick is seriously the best invention ever in the history of the world.
DeleteOMG yes to all of this.
ReplyDeleteBut you look good girl!
I am going to tell you something.....when I met you at Erma, I thought you were in your 20s and had no kids.
I AM NOT SHITTING YOU.
We are our own worst critics.
Now pass the ice cream.....
YOU ARE MY NEW BEST FRIEND FOREVER.
DeleteThank you. xoxo
Oh my, yes to all of this and it's so depressing. Yes, lipstick helps, but now I think I need lip LINER, too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ReplyDeleteNoooooooooooo!!!!!!! I put my foot down at lip liner. What's next, a bag over my head?
DeleteI had to laugh because this is all so true. And also because I remember reading that thing about putting lipstick on and I have to say it does kinda work. BUt not with bright red...because that on a middle-aged sad looking face just makes it nine kinds of worse! :D
ReplyDeleteI agree with the bright red! Although sometimes I manage to convince myself that I can rock that, too. ::whispers:: i can't
DeleteYou're pretty. Very pretty...like "I'm jealous of her" Pretty. :)
ReplyDeleteAnd this reminds me of my mom who since I was about 12 has said to me "You could use a little lipstick". Lipstick, (applied correctly) is an instant mood enhancer
You are so right! I love that phrase your mom said - and it's nice to know that we can all "use" it from time to time - no matter the age. I love it.
DeleteAnd thank you. xoxo
First of all, you are beautiful. Second of all, I don't mind the wrinkles so very much. I just mind the extra fat. I wish I could "look good for my age."
ReplyDeleteLooking good for my age is that thing that I fear I will chase for the rest of my life. And thank you. xoxo
DeleteFor me it's filling in my eyebrows and adding a little mascara. Makes all the difference.
ReplyDeleteOh, yes. I do that too. And it does. xo
DeleteI swear I don't even own lipstick.
ReplyDeleteCrap.
Maybe THAT's the problem all these years...
p.s. I do wear the HELL out of mascara, though. Great Lash Forevah.
2015831dongdong
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