It used to be.
It used to be that every morning in high school and college and even post college I would spend time doing my hair in front of the mirror. I'd put on a put together outfit and I looked smart. I would wear the latest makeup and the latest styles and I fit nicely snug into a good modern pair of jeans. I'd carry a smug bag and throw on the cutest sandals and flip my hair back with a pair of sunglasses that I picked perfectly for my face. It used to be I was a cute package, everyday.
Anymore I wonder why I can't quite get it right. My hair looks like a mitten slopped over my head and my face is becoming puffy if I don't sleep the right amount of hours. I try to keep up with fashion but I tend to throw something together because I don't have the will to spend my money on a pair of jeans that fit perfectly to my behind. I did however go to a shop last week and buy a few youthful tops to flatter myself. I bought three shirts and I keep wearing them over and over and over.
Why is it, then when our bodies change, we struggle to recapture our youth? Perhaps I need to embrace what is coming and age "gracefully". Is that right? Is that what aging gracefully means? To just work with what you have instead of trying to regress to the old days? Oh, wait, these ARE the old days.
Last night I was watching Sex and the City and Carrie talks about "when did we stop having fun?" She talks about walking through your fear and living at any age. Charlotte gets married and cries at her wedding b/c everything is going wrong and it means bad luck. Carrie says "you need to stop because you are missing it. You are missing the right now." It's true. Do we worry so much about perfecting ourselves that we miss life as it's happening. I think so.
On my way to work this morning I walked slowly even though I could hear a train leaving. I knew I would be late. But I'm tired of the panic that comes over me every morning as I rush out the door. I waited a few extra minutes for my next train. I didn't think about it. Usually my heart would be racing. I'd be nervous and afraid my boss would beat me to the punch. I got off the train to get my bus. I see an old friend who I often see on that transfer so I know I've missed the bus too. But I still walk and think about the present. "I'm here and I'm okay." I repeat this like a mantra. When I turn the corner, a new bus appears-which never happens that quick. My patience paid off.
If we could all just be patient with ourselves and with each other I think things would unfold without chaos and frustration. Hey, maybe I'd even lose those wrinkles that pop up when I'm feeling anxious and make the "oh shit" face.
My point is....well hell, I don't know. I just know that I'm turning 30 in August and all this writing and contemplation and slow understanding and forgiveness of my weaknesses, well, it might just all be a part of aging gracefully. I really hope anyway.
Anymore I wonder why I can't quite get it right. My hair looks like a mitten slopped over my head and my face is becoming puffy if I don't sleep the right amount of hours. I try to keep up with fashion but I tend to throw something together because I don't have the will to spend my money on a pair of jeans that fit perfectly to my behind. I did however go to a shop last week and buy a few youthful tops to flatter myself. I bought three shirts and I keep wearing them over and over and over.
Why is it, then when our bodies change, we struggle to recapture our youth? Perhaps I need to embrace what is coming and age "gracefully". Is that right? Is that what aging gracefully means? To just work with what you have instead of trying to regress to the old days? Oh, wait, these ARE the old days.
Last night I was watching Sex and the City and Carrie talks about "when did we stop having fun?" She talks about walking through your fear and living at any age. Charlotte gets married and cries at her wedding b/c everything is going wrong and it means bad luck. Carrie says "you need to stop because you are missing it. You are missing the right now." It's true. Do we worry so much about perfecting ourselves that we miss life as it's happening. I think so.
On my way to work this morning I walked slowly even though I could hear a train leaving. I knew I would be late. But I'm tired of the panic that comes over me every morning as I rush out the door. I waited a few extra minutes for my next train. I didn't think about it. Usually my heart would be racing. I'd be nervous and afraid my boss would beat me to the punch. I got off the train to get my bus. I see an old friend who I often see on that transfer so I know I've missed the bus too. But I still walk and think about the present. "I'm here and I'm okay." I repeat this like a mantra. When I turn the corner, a new bus appears-which never happens that quick. My patience paid off.
If we could all just be patient with ourselves and with each other I think things would unfold without chaos and frustration. Hey, maybe I'd even lose those wrinkles that pop up when I'm feeling anxious and make the "oh shit" face.
My point is....well hell, I don't know. I just know that I'm turning 30 in August and all this writing and contemplation and slow understanding and forgiveness of my weaknesses, well, it might just all be a part of aging gracefully. I really hope anyway.
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