The other day, I was at a makeup store, grabbing some white eyeliner for experimentation. The woman at the checkout was all of about 20-something, and had absolutely perfect skin (or at least the makeup to make it look that way). She suggested that I might like to come to their upcoming event in a couple of weeks. Free facials! Well, who doesn’t love a good facial? Especially a fee one? I was interested. She said they would be offering free advice on products to try. She mentioned one product in particular and said, “it’s great for anti-aging.”… Excuse me? Feeling offended is so rare that I had to stop and examine this… why was I so offended? Do I think I look young? Nope. Then it hit me… I love my wrinkles! I love my age spots and my mature skin texture and the fact that I look just about the age I really am. You have no idea what I went through too earn my bit of grey in my hair, my crows feet and my smile lines. Why would I want to erase that? Hell, yes… I am old enough to love all the badges that I have earned and wear proudly on my face. And I was happy. I was happy to be in a stage of life where I care what I think more than I care what anyone else thinks. I was happy to be my age, and to have the marks of experience. I was happy to be me in this moment, having these feelings and loving myself. How has life marked you?
Why I Love My Wrinkles
