On Not Being 20.

I am obsessing about my looks for the first time in my whole life. Yeah sure, all along I’ve been mildly concerned as the majority of female human beings are, but I was never sick over it. I’m not exactly sick over it now, but there are definitely increasing levels of anxiety and plain shock over my aging looks. I can deal with the gray hair. In fact I loved the gray hair…that was until it was paired with tiny, yet obvious wrinkles and ever-so-slightly sagging skin. This is sooooo not fair. Just when I begin to feel like I’ve got my feet on solid ground, something else creeps in to challenge my self-esteem.  On the brighter side, all the walking in D.C. resulted in a few pounds being dropped according to the Publix scale that still strangely exists in the foyer of most of their grocery stores. Why the hell is that thing there anyways? Don’t they want you to buy more food so that they can make more money? Because let me tell you, when I get on that scale, I’m never thinking “Alright! Time to load up on some more of that delicious Publix Premium Ice Cream!”  Even when I miraculously do end up weighing just a few pounds less than the week prior (because without fail, I weigh myself each and every time I’m there), I just think “Okay, so how can I get that number to go down even more?” I don’t know, maybe diet food is more expensive and that’s their logic.

            When I was in my late twenties, I was going through a metamorphosis and eagerly awaiting my thirties. I wanted to be a full grown adult. I didn’t want to be lumped into the reckless, immature, binge-drinking, superficial Peter Pans that I’d always associated with as a young person (a few specific individuals aside). But now, the old lady syndrome is really making me rethink this whole grown-up thing. Is it crazy that at 31 I’m already wanting to “turn back the clock”? I’m not proud that I have recently begun to wish for Botox and various nips and tucks, but it’s true. In Savannah, I looked around at all the cool art school kids and could no longer ignore the reality that I’ve done everything ass-backwards and thought about how awkward I feel at school amongst a sea of 20 year olds, how I can’t go back and do things differently, how I have to figure out a way to bridge my role as a 31 year old, married, homeschooling mom of 3 with the me that only now has the opportunity to blossom and emerge.  I sense more awkward stumbling ahead. Maybe only a few embarrassing outings and strangely fitting fashion ensembles will suffice… if I’m lucky.