I’ve never plucked my eyebrows. If you’ve met me then… obvi. But the other day I noticed a little grey mucker had weaseled his way into my forehead baseline and that puppy got yanked faster than a losing team’s goalie in the final minutes of playoff hockey.
A few months ago I purchased neck cream … you know… to have on hand when I needed it. I started using it religiously last week.
Today I went to purchase Bio Freeze from Target because… well… my knee.
And though there is some “if I could turn back time” longing for my more youthful self – mainly so I can apologize for not being nicer to her – these subtle transitions into the next phase of my life don’t necessarily gnaw at me.
BUT today’s German Sheppard teeth still in the skin bite is another story: While at before mentioned Target I was making the turn through the produce section to the register. This ignited a heated debate with my 3 year old Theo over the “free” cookie from the bakery. Side note: that cookie isn’t free… I pay for that sugar high hand over fist.
Anyway. I was practicing my hold firm and he was practicing his loud voice so I was quickly trying to wheel away from the spacial memory area for cookies when the lady stacking the heads of lettuce said “Have fun with that one today grandma.”
I laughed. Because that’s what I immediately do when strangers say things to me in awkward parenting moments. But as word recognition was fully absorbed several internal thoughts started whirling:
- She clearly didn’t see me in the way normal people see people… with their eyes.
- Grandma must be the new “Bey”
- Dang I thought I could stretch getting my hair colored another week
- That heifer wants to fight
For a moment I let that way cray comment set in. I literally wanted to go home and crawl into my shawl and die.
Getting older is scary, nothing makes this more evident than this year’s onslaught of Facebook friends running the full court Rodan & Fields press. (Got nothing but love for you girls) The panic is cracking at my about to cave crowsfeet. And what’s the alternative? Poking my face with a bunch of needles to make it “appear” that I’m winkle-free. The most twisted thing about our culture is that we convince ourselves that appearance is reality.
We think we know about someone’s real life, marriage, finances, happiness … because of what they show the world. Believe me I spare my general and I forget how we are connected Facebook friends the full extent of my shit show. You’re welcome. But those closest , they know the aches, the pains, the fears, the can I just abort and reboot somewhere down in Mexico moments and makings of my life.
Chasing the appearance may attract the attention of false friends and admirers but I’m too old for that shiznit. I have a hard enough time chasing my kids because… well…my likely arthritic knee and they … chest swell… got my speed. And I can’t fight aging because I’m too busy trying to defend myself from my 3 year olds haymakers and kung-fu kicks forever all day.
Being a mom to 4 kids especially with a Theo finish can make you look weathered and I’m usually in some variation of a track suit so I get it… I’m not that mad at the grandma mishap happening.
But that (blind) lady in Target also made me remember how alive I am. That’s the coolest part about aging. You’re frickin ALIVE! And my initial laugh, that was the right move… because it was funny. Yes, I could technically be old enough to be a grandparent but if that lady saw me turn a mother out on the dance floor, she wouldn’t have sold me down the your roots need to be done river.
Aging… it’s inevitable AND it’s a blessing. I hope my maturing reality includes getting to be a real grandma. I’m going to have one badass grandma gang and we are going to rule the wrinkle world!
Get your fine line fabulouso on!
Hugs and LOVE!