Growing old


As I’m fixing my hair something catches my eye on the crown of my head. I lean in closer. Why is that piece of hair standing straight up, and why is it so short? Shit. It’s the gray hair I just plucked 4 days ago. I can’t believe that it’s back already! There once was a time when I would dye my hair just because I wanted a fun new look, usually every 6 months or so. As I stare at that one gray hair I must laugh. I just dyed my hair 3 weeks ago. It needs a touch up already? I’m nowhere near as young as I feel.

When I’m with Brandon and the kids I feel young, wild and free. The kids remind me of my childhood and bring out my inner child. They keep my mind young by thinking quickly and acting fast. Brandon brings out the teen in me. He keeps my heart young and full of love. I need them around me every day or else I worry I may start to feel my age.

My mind and my heart feel so young and yet my body tells a different story. I don’t know why I expected it to keep up with the rest of me considering all the damage I’ve done to it. (Tanning, smoking, drugs, alcohol, junk food and every day normal wear and tear) I haven’t been the least bit kind to it. Why should I expect it to be kind to me in my old age? I may be a little vain. But really, who isn’t?

When I was younger, I wanted to look like a Kardashian. I know right, please shoot younger me. I had the long black hair, and great complexion. It was awesome at the time but lately I can’t help but think how stupid I was. Why a Kardashian? I believe I’m naturally more beautiful than they are. Why black hair instead of my naturally dark brown? Why tanner skin, I already have an olive complexion most women would die for. I don’t know where my head was; it had to be up my butt. I’m over the Kardashian phase now. I just want to be me because I’m awesome.

I want my kids to see me for who I really am. I want my daughter to grow up knowing that she’s beautiful. She doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone. I don’t want my son’s growing up thinking women have to change what they don’t like or them thinking they need to change themselves. I want them to have normal expectations of their future mates, and not photo shopped Play Boy/Girl images.

I just recently finished watching the Showtime series, The Big C. You ever see it? It made me cry, it made me laugh and it made me think. Cathy, the main character, didn’t abuse anything in her life. She always wore sunscreen and was straight edge. Here Cathy is fighting for her life against Cancer and look at me. I have abused everything that can be abused. (except kids) I had so much fun and lived such a wild life. Why should my ending be any better than hers? I know the show’s not real, but it could be. Any one of us could be Cathy.

How does one enjoy so many fun things without a negative impact? I always thought I looked old if my skin was pale. I used to tan every day. I was like tanning mom; my mom even referenced her when talking about me. I know, right? I wasn’t that bad, at least I didn’t think I was. Now I look at my skin when it’s tan and think I look like a brown leather briefcase. Tanning has me very paranoid now. Cathy was diagnosed with melanoma.

I love climbing in the tanning beds. The warmth from the bulbs always makes my back feel good. I love the way it would clear up acne or tan away skin flaws. I enjoy a good-looking tan and I love sunbathing on the beach. I’m just so paranoid about melanoma now!

No one wants to show their age. I am no exception to that. However, I would rather be a hot mess in my 30’s and alive in my 60’s than be cute in my 30’s and dead in my 60’s. Before I had Brandon and the kids I never gave any of this a second thought. But now-a-days growing old is all I can think about.

I can’t wait to be a Grandma. I can’t wait to retire and grow old with Brandon. I can’t wait till his beard is all white. I’m excited to see how my kids turn out. I’m excited to watch them learn life’s lessons the hard way. None of those things ever sounded appealing to me when I was younger. I thought I would fight growing old and by the time I hit 50 I’d kill myself. That’s not even a funny joke anymore. I NEED to be there when my kids are older. I WANT to be there. I want to get senior discounts with Brandon. I NEED TO GIVE MY GRANDKIDS A WEDGIE!

None of these things ever mattered before but now I have a future. The kids give me a reason to want better. Brandon gives me a reason to want more. I really mean it when I say forever never sounded sweeter.

I don’t care about growing old anymore. I’m just excited I get to experience it with my family. Not everyone does, Cathy didn’t. 


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