Lately I have not been loving mirrors. When I don't look in them I feel pretty good; I go about my life doing my mommy things, living life, and sometimes feeling, well, pretty bored. This is when I start to remember silly things that happened in medical school or high school and they don't seem like they happened that long ago. In fact, I often find, myself thinking, "I'm almost 40. How did that happen?"
Time is funny like that. It creeps up on you. In my head I really haven't aged at all through the years. My thoughts may be more mature and I may do the things that adults do every day, i have kids and a house and responsibilities and all of those grown up type things, but it feels like nothing internally really has changed as the years have gone by, save a few new aches and pains.
Then a mirror creeps up on me. I'll have to go to the bathroom, and there it is. Or I'll be shopping for underwear or cat food, minding my own business, go around the corner, and there one will be, assaulting me with its presence. First thing in the morning, it can be so shocking as to completely wake me up. I have nothing against growing older, I just don't like what it's doing to that previously young woman in the mirror.
Her skin isn't as bright as it used to be and she has age spots on her cheek. There are crow's feet at the corners of her eyes and a furrow as deep as the Grand Canyon between her eyebrows. Her hair isn't as full, her eyes are starting to look tired. That woman in the mirror is starting to look old.
It's not an easy thing to come to terms with. I am really starting to understand why plastic surgeons and dermatologists are so busy. I've found myself looking at skin creams, at a loss for what to buy to get back that glow, and pretty amazed at the prices. And knowing that if I had the money to spare, I'd definitely have a medicine chest full of them.
It's not like this all happened overnight, one night I went to bed looking like a dewy skinned 22-year-old, and the next morning I looked in the morning a withered crone, but it's just been more evident lately. I've spent a lot of time trying to wrap my head around the fact that when I try to talk about my childhood with William he can't even comprehend that I was ever little. Or young. Or even a teenager like sissy. I'm old in his eyes.
I am getting older. I know that you are only as old as you feel, and I don't feel old, but the mirrors tell me otherwise. How do you get through those initial days of disbelief, quit obsessing about it, and just get on with your life?
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