The other day I took a selfie with George. When I was scrolling through my camera later that night I came across the picture and my response was: good lord, I hope that's not what I look like. I fully examined that picture--there was a lot of zooming and wrinkle counting. I made myself feel better by binging on Master of None (because my love for Aziz is real). Thankfully, by the time I made it up to bed for the night, my adult meltdown was over.
Why do we do this?! Why fight aging so hard? It's stressful.
I get my hair dyed every 6 weeks because grey hairs are pesky and annoying. I love the hour of alone time when I have my appointment, (TRUST ME, I do) I just wish it wasn't so darn necessary.
At every turn I feel like there's a new way to spend money…lash extensions, magical creams, serums that dreams are made of, etc., etc. I love a good product as much as anyone, but sometimes all of this gets exhausting. Or maybe that's just me.
Last summer I ran into an old co-worker who is probably five-ish years older than me. She's one of those people that is undeniably herself all the time--so smart and funny. We were in Michigan and she was with her kids and had a glow. I should note that she let the grey happen. Of course she did! She's just that confident and cool. Such a badass move, I thought.
I think it's such a rookie mistake for us to worry about all of this as much as we do. Because the truth of the matter is that even though I'm soooo (endless "o's," people) uncomfortable in a swimsuit or shorts (thank you children for the lovely varicose veins), I actually don't feel half bad in a pair of jeans. I'm picking my battles (for now). It's a big life out there and being ageless is not real.