Of Lines and Leakage

This post will probably go down as one of TMI.  However my blog, like life, is full of things that aren't pretty (and are often downright nasty), but are realistic.  As much as I like to be, I've past the point of being the hot young mom.  (Ok, I was NEVER the hot young mom...I was never HOT period.)

Here is the painfully obvious truth...(drum roll please), I am middle aged (bordering on old).  If this were the early part of the last century, I would be an old woman.  (Wearing old lady dresses and orthopedic shoes no doubt.)  I'm not thrilled about this fact because I still want to wear Sesame Street jammies.  I probably wear clothing and make up that is not necessarily "age appropriate."  I don't think "old."  But then I look in the mirror and...

I do look the same as I always did.  If I compare myself to my high school senior portrait (not that I really want to look), I see the same face.  But there are some changes.  There's that giant line in the middle of my forehead that made its appearance when I was heading towards forty. In the ensuing years, it's not gotten better.  (No matter what "magic" serum I've tried to apply)  I am not exaggerating, it's not a wrinkle; it a gorge that goes across the entire span.  I have my father to thank for that.  Or at least my father's genes.  I look at him and I see that same damn deep line. I'm NOT going the Botox route.  Not only do I think it looks strange, but I have enough health problems and don't need to deal with botulism in my face.  With my luck, I'd end up with a reaction and have a swollen and immobile face! I'll admit I try to hide it with bangs.  But I have really fine hair so that doesn't work so well.  (I'd worry that a sign of age is thinning hair, but my hair has always been thin.  And it's the only part of me that always has been!  If thinning hair is going to be a problem as I continue to age, I going to have to consider a wig by the time I hit Medicare.  Or maybe by then, insurance will cover the Hair Club for women???)  So I've got this huge gorge and that's bad enough, but today I spied those "laugh lines" around my eyes.

I've had "laugh lines" for a while.  I like "laugh lines."  They mean I laugh, right?  But somehow, they've gotten deeper and longer.  Again, despite my attempts with various "magic" serums and formulas.  Those cute little crinkles around my eyes and less crinkly.  Eye shadows seem to settle in there.  So now I have sparkly crinkles.  (Yes, I have frosty shadows...I know I'm living in the wrong century, right?)

Meanwhile, with all these wrinkles and lines, I STILL have breakouts that would make you think that I'm in high school.  To me my pores seem to be larger than the Grand Canyon.  (Ok, so now I'm exaggerating, but just a little.)  How can my skin be so old and so young?  How can I have age spots on my hands and pimples on my chest?

But the biggest indicator to me that I am old is leakage.  It's the greatest insult of all. It's not because I laugh too hard.  It just happens.  I don't need to know about "those" exercises.  I've done them. (I did those years before I had this "issue.")  I thought when I lost my uterus I wouldn't have to deal with issues "in that area."  I was wrong.  I have the undies to prove it.  But I am not ready to go to plastic panties...yet.  Give me another decade or so. By then I'll have so many other issues that this one won't matter at all.  Given the fact that I'm always cold, I'm wondering if I'll even notice if I get hot flashes.

How did I ever get to this age of lines and leakage?  Aging is a fact of life, I'd love to go gracefully.  However, I  don't think I've ever been graceful in any aspect of my life.  Here I am entering  middle age which will evolve into those "golden years"  (what's so golden about them?  I'm going to be working my ass off until the day I die, but that's yet another blog post!)  I'm going to stumble and trip through it just as I have through every other awkward stage of my life.  There will be good days where I revel in my maturity and bad where I bitch, moan and long for my lost youth.  (Which was not as wonderful as my memory would have me recall.)  This is life:  celebrating and/or whining I know I'll be doing both (as I have always done).