![Forever 32....[disclaimer, I'm nowhere near 32]](https://lanivcox.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/pablo.png?w=1024)
There is no denying it. Iβm getting way older than my younger self ever imagined. I remember when we were kids and doing the math: How old would we all be in the year 2000? Wow! What about 2015? OMG. Ancient! I couldnβt fathom what anything beyond 25 would look like and if I did, Iβm not sure what that would mean.
Now, this isnβt to say my life has been spiraling down ever since I graduated university, but, letβs just say, on paper, I look bad β real bad. However, to minimalists and renegades Iβm doing alright. All this to say, I understand why we canβt see into the future, itβs to protect us from trying desperately to avoid hurt and sorrow and making mistakes β but we will anyways.
The problem is I donβt worry about the future. If I think about it then I feel like, yeah, I should be worried. Generally though, I stopped worrying somewhere in my twenties. Iβm not sure why or how. Youβre right, thatβs not a good answer, but I think I just became a bigger person of faith. I stopped losing sleep over my credit card bill and started to believe that everything would be alright.
This is not to say that I entered a state of heavy denial. I simply think that as you get older you realize how things are never what you expected and you canβt prepare for what you canβt expect. You start to let go of the imaginary reins a little and take in the really lovely moments with great intensity. And as a women (because I donβt know how it is for men), you start to like the way you look and have this confidence that you wished you had when you thought you were fat and imperfect and all that other bullshit.
Getting older, aging, rocking the βol rocking chair is actually scary and wonderful. Right now, I feel quite attached to being alive. When you are younger, you donβt think about it too much because you are stupid and you donβt realize what you got. But now? Iβm flinching at the sun, entertaining dark thoughts and hoping I get to be here long enough to live out my lifeβs purpose.
I understand the sentiment, βyouth is wasted on the youngβ because when you are young you donβt realize how beautiful you naturally are. Your skin will never look better. Trust me. When you start getting those wrinkles, you are like OH, SHIT. Iβve got wrinkles and stretch marks above my knees, people. My knees. *sob* Iβve never been fat or gained/loss a great deal of weight so WHAT Β Β Β THEΒ Β Β FRACK? (points if you know where I got that from)
I also understand why women get all botoxed up. They probably freaked out. Itβs weird to look at your face and see it change. I know that people who knew me when I was much younger, look at me and think, βSheβs getting older. Itβs showing.β Family is GREAT for that. But I canβt help it, really and Iβm learning to lean into this inevitably because I donβt have a choice and it sounds better if I say these kinds of things.
Look, I refuse to dye my hair. Yes, Iβm getting that white streak on my right side, like a skunk, but I donβt want to have to deal with the upkeep like my grandma, bless her heart, who has magically had jet black hair for my entire life. I donβt want to put my birthday on FB anymore! I donβt want to change my damn skin care regime in the false hopes that the RoC crΓ¨me will fill in those crinkles and lines! GAH!
However, I have realized the importance of health. Iβm not a health nutter, but I do alright. Iβve never been into drinking or hard drugs, yoyo dieting, but if I get hit by a Mack truck, I realize my health wonβt matter. Sorry, there I go again, entertaining dark thoughts.
Okay, the bright side of aging. I stopped worrying about what other women think of me and itβs awesome. I know what I need. I know what I want and I know how to get it done and if I need to elaborate, Iβm sorry, I wonβt. Iβve finally accepted the way I look and I mean this in the best way possible. Big deal for us ladies, I donβt know why, but it is.
Iβve learned to lose some friends. Iβm not afraid of my voice like I used to be and I could go on, but I donβt want you to think youβve accidently picked up a Womenβs Health magazineβ¦(too late). The scary bits include, βOh, God, Iβm going to die!β and βWhen will the dark horse come get me like in that Young Guns movie?β
*sob*
[disclaimer: I am no where near 32]
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