I’m 34 years old.
I like being 34 years old & I don’t mind looking 34 years old. You know who does seem to mind the lines on my face? The internet. Every other ad is for a face cream, a sun blocking hat, botox, or some “magical” new product or procedure that “guarantees” to erase the lines from my face.
And I’m offended. Why would I want to remove the lines the prove past joys?
Those horizontal crinkles on my forehead? I got those from doing a bajillion surprised peek-a-boo faces for my babies. They were hard-earned, and I’ll keep earning them every time I get a chance to play peek-a-boo in the future.
The elevens between my eyebrows? Evidence of hours upon hours of playing Mama Monster – even typing that title brings a smile to my face thinking of chasing my kiddos around with a deep “fee-fi-fo-fum, I’m going to tickle your tummy-tum” – stomping and angry elevens included. Sure, they’ve probably been carved a bit deeper by years of focusing in school as well, but that’s not really something I’m looking to hide either.
The very faint scrunches on my nose? Gained from exaggerated pee-yew faces when one of my littles laugh so hard they pooty. Nevermind that I have almost no sense of smell, the ensuing giggles (and sometimes repeated pooties) are worth the faint lines on my nose.
The smile lines? I mean, come on, the word smile is right in the name! You want me to care about the evidence of hours of fun and laughter? Get real, I’m too focused on laughing ’til I cry with my besties.
I’m not spending a penny – or a worry for that matter – on postponing the evidence of life’s joy on my face, and neither should you.
Disclaimer/Reality Check: I’m not saying I’m all joy & sunshine over here – I’m sure some of my wrinkles are from crying over hurt feelings, or yelling at the universe for others. That’s part of life, & I’m ok with that, too. This column will be about motherhood, parenting, and homemaking for the most part. It could be about our four year long backyard renovation, or how I decorated my kids rooms with samples of paint and an impulse. Most importantly, I don’t ever want this column to make another mama think she’s not doing enough. If you’re reading this, I want you to know that you are, you’re doing great, keep it up. Sing it with me: no-one is doing it allllll!
