Vanity

The wrinkles have officially begun. I noticed this last year on my forehead in the space between my eyebrows. I'm a terrible "frowner" and years of the habit have made long creases that run from my forehead down. I'm also showing lines around my eyes from years of smiling big and laughing hard.

A part of me is sad and selfishly upset. Seeing the physical proof that I am no longer some hot young 20 something is oftentimes difficult to accept. I don't often feel my age and it was hard for me to remember when asked "how old are you" to answer "30" when I hit the big one. And it wasn't necessarily because I'm ashamed of my age rather than the transition wasn't instantaneous. Come to think of it, I'm fairly sure I'm not alone. I just didn't think of myself in terms of a 30-something instead of a 20-something. Just as I'm sure I won't think of myself as a 40-something if, and god willing when, the time comes.

Until then, these little marks that signify the changing of my life and the passing by of years will remain firmly a part of me. I suppose I could look at them as a road map of all the twists and turns my life has taken so far.

Poor Jimbo and I. He's losing his hair, I'm turning into a prune. What a pair we are.