My youth is gone.
I've felt it slipping away for sometime now. I was resistant. But then a couple things happened recently that made me realize that I am a full-blown adult and that I'm okay with it.
Not too long ago I was shopping at JCPenney's in the mall. I went to the juniors section, where I've shopped for the past 16 years or so. And as I browsed the racks, I hated everything I saw. "Don't they have any real clothes?" I muttered to myself. And then my gaze drifted to the misses and womens departments. And that's where the real clothes were. I left the juniors section without looking back.
I am officially old. Well, officially a woman. My jeans say so. :)
Second story. And it's a doozy.
I haven't lied about my age since I was probably 21 or so. As a teen, you always lie to appear older to older guys. I married young - at 19 - which was fairly common from the conservative town I am from, but in the more liberal college town I got a lot of crap for being so young. So I'd often lie about my age to avoid that.
For the last six or seven years, I've lived in the comfort of my own age. It won't last. It's only a six or seven year span. I spent most of my life trying to be older. And I know that in the future I'll try to be younger. When I lie about my age, I will paint myself as younger. Although I really am going to try to be honest. It really annoys me when women won't say their true age and everyone knows they are lying. I hope to appear younger than my years (if I take after my mother, that will be the case) and I think it's more impressive to be honest.
Anyway, off my soap box.
But I lied yeserday and said I was older than I am. Shocker!
For years, I have struggled with bad skin. As a teen my older sister who struggled acne before me insisted my mother take me to the dermatologist, bless her heart. I went through several medications and went through a course of Accutane. That helped. A lot. But I would still have break outs. Not super severe. Not totally crippling to my self-esteem like before. But still. And this went on. And never stopped.
I got fed up the other day and determined that as an adult with a good insurance plan and some discretionary funds, I was going back to the dermatologist and I am going to put an end to this once and for all! I went yesterday. And I didn't want to appear vain because my skin isn't all that bad. I know this because I have lived through really bad skin. So I kind of felt shallow going in and complaining. But I told the doctor I knew it wasn't extreme or anything, but I was 30 and I was done with breakouts!
It just slipped out of my mouth. I had just said I was 30. Gee whiz. That doesn't happen for another year and a half. I guess I felt better about complaining to the doctor if he thought I was older.
He gave me some medications and we've established a long-term maintenance plan so I will hopefully not have to Photoshop every single picture of myself I post on the blog. :) Oh, and I got a complimentary chemical peel (a milder chemical, not the kind that leaves you red and puffy for a week - I went straight back to work). It made my skin so soft and this morning I felt like I had been photoshopped in real life. My skin looked so smooth and the tiny hairline lines around my eyes had vanished. I feel like such an adult getting chemical peels! A fancy pants lady. Like from Sex in the City or something. :)
So that's my story. I'm an old fart now.
When was the last time you lied about your age? Do you think there will be any more incidents when I'll fib and say I'm older ever again?