It’s almost my birthday. I’m 20 minutes shy of 29. I used to not feel old, I used to look quite a bit younger than my age. I find lately, though, I’ve been looking and feeling more my age. Part of it is the climate here, I think. It’s already a bit cold, which would lend some explanation as to why I wake up stiff some mornings. And the air is dryer. I need to up the face cream application. My haircut doesn’t help, I look like the grandmother from the Gilmore Girls (which by the way, the crazy lady cut one side shorter than the other, wtf? just add it to my list of complaints).
It’s not just the getting older that I dislike, it’s the getting uglier. I look in the mirror and this face is not the one I had before. My legs look like tree trunks wrapped in denim. I put on an old (too small) bra today and actually had the effect of perky boobs with cleavage. It took 3 minutes before I realized that nothing was wrong with my shirt. Boobs are actually supposed to look like that! What a wonderful blessing it is to get older! We forget the beauty of youth, so we don’t get too depressed by the degradation of old age.
Ok, I know I am being a bit melodramatic about turning TWENTY-NINE. I’m going put my cold cream on and go to bed. God knows I need that good beauty sleep.