Well, it’s happening. Cracks in the foundation are making themselves known. This body is showing signs of age. The wear and tear of life is starting to leave its mark. On me.
The changes started slowly. So slowly that they were easily dismissed. A rouge gray hair ripped from its root, easily explained away by stress. Muscles that were sore for no apparent reason. And seemingly arriving overnight, a long black hair sprouting from your chin. YOUR CHIN! Out came the tweezers. Out damn hair, out!
Then came the dark circles under your eyes that your daughter pointed out. Darkness you swear wasn’t there yesterday. Didn’t I sleep well? Why do I look so tired? Do I need to start wearing makeup now?
This month, I started to see the larger signs. The elasticity of the flesh I once held in my youth has begun to break down, leaving a complex diamond-shaped pattern I know instinctively no lotion or potion will be able to smooth. I am aging. Ready or not, here it comes.
At 46, my youth is now moving into the rearview mirror instead of the long winding road ahead. Or, at least I think that’s what I see whizzing by me. My eyesight is fading now, too. Maybe that will be a good thing. If I can’t see the flaws, I can’t criticize myself, right?
Does this mean my best years are behind me? I sure hope not. I’m only now figuring shit out. All it means is that I’m not as shiny and new as I once was. It may take me longer to get off the floor than it once did or take a bit more product to make me presentable, but I’m still on the road. I’m still behind the wheel.
This is new-to-me skin to live in. It may take me some time to adjust to the shifts, but adjust to them I will. Because that’s what humans do. We change. We grow. We evolve.
Buckle in, mid-life. We have some exciting adventures ahead.