Be prepared. You are entering a whining zone.
Do you ever catch yourself in the mirror and wonder "who is that person?" I'm not talking in the metaphorical sense. I'm talking about the goods. Your goods or what used to be your goods. You know, your looks, your relative babe factor.
In the last few years, the person I see looking back at me has changed. What's most disconcerting is that the changes I fleetingly observed at, say, age 30 are coming on at a much more rapid pace since the birth of my daughters. I'm getting older.
I warned you that whining was going to happen.
In order to confirm that I do indeed look different, that I'm not in fact hallucinating, I called my mom.
Me: "Something strange is going on. It's a bit unsettling."
Mom: "What's that?"
Me: "I don't look like myself anymore."
Mom: "I know. You don't."
WHAT. Wait. This is my mother. She's supposed to tell me that my skin is still taut, my hair is still dark, I still look good. At a minimum she could have lied to me.
Okay, so she wasn't telling me that I looked bad, but she was confirming my deepest suspicion. I don't look like I used to. For one, my hair is starting to speckle. Alright, it's not just starting, it IS speckled. I find random gray hairs on clothes, on the floor, and entwined in Julia's fingers. I've really tried to be okay with going gray, but truth be told, I'm not.
Of course the simple answer is to get my hair colored, but that's like admitting defeat. Can't I just get into a time machine and transport myself back ten years to steal my old hair. I mean, I don't want my old life, just my hair.
Then there's the skin issue. My goodness, the pores on my face could house small animals. To top it off, after Grace was born, I developed rosacea. For the most part I can hold it at bay, and at the other times, I just conveniently forget to wear my glasses for weeks at a time so that I won't see the red blotches creeping across my visage.
It's not just the skin on my face. For crying out loud, I only gained 27 lbs with Julia and still that child stretched my skin. By four months post partum I was down below my pre-pregnancy weight, and I'm still carrying extra saggy skin across my midsection. Curse my children whom I love beyond measure.
I'm not even going to touch the problems of random hair growth and/or loss or the slow migration of everything southward. I need to save those up for another day of complaining.
To all the fabulous older women in my life, I can hear your voices already. Just wait another decade or two, right?
1 comments:
Okay so I almost starting crying when I read this - I think basically the same thing every day! I put on my old jeans which fit just fine but then when I sit down there is skin that pops out and it looks like I have a muffin top because of that extra skin! It isn't the weight is it the lack of everything being firm! I guess I knew this would happen but sometimes I get a little caught up in things and it is a little depressing. Stick with it though! You look great - that may not mean much because people say that to me and usually doesn't help, but honestly you do. Maybe you are a little different before you had children but I have to say the happiness and joy in your eyes were not there before you had kids - I know they weren't there for me! BTW - I am off to get my hair colored right now - I started before I was getting the gray so in my mind I just like to get my hair colored - it has nothing to do with gray hair. Love you! S
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