I am not aging gracefully. I think, at this stage of my early thirties, I should recognize that smile lines and crows feet are inevitable, and welcome them as signatories of a happy life. Not so much, though. I am protesting loudly against my own face.
It’s going to keep coming at me. First these wrinkles and then gray hairs (although my hair rarely has a chance to show its true color) and then 15 pounds I can’t lose and eventually, the horror of arm flab.
Now, my dear readers, if you are currently wrinkled and gray and a little pudgy with arm flab, you look great. I’m primarily worried about myself here, so lets stay on topic.
I don’t want to get old. I am not slipping quietly into this phase, and I think maybe I’m supposed to. I should just recognize that aging is a part of life, and not just the wrinkles, but the dying part. I am going to die. I’m not okay with that.
All I’m wanting is to live forever with a 20 year old body and face. Is that so much to ask?
Anyway, that’s a nice shallow topic for you to NOT comment on, not that I’m disgruntled about the lack of commentage around here or anything.