The Fine Lines

I recently became fascinated with the fine lines making their home around my eyes. Every time I look in the mirror I smile so I can see them better. I smile because I actually like them. I feel lucky to have them.

My mother passed away when she was 44. The image of her at that age is frozen in my mind: forever young, in a way. I'm almost 31, 13 years away from the big 44, but I know how quickly time passes and I will reach that milestone quicker than I expected. It will be emotional, I'm sure, to pass the age my mother never did. To see my children graduate from high school, get married, become a grandmother.

I think we lose sight of what a gift aging is: how full and exciting each year can be. Instead we seem to be in a cultural rut of obsessing youth. Sure I had a firmer body when I was 20 and no gray hairs or wrinkles, but my insecurities made it impossible to appreciate and enjoy being young. I'm more comfortable in my own body now and we have a good relationship. It's done some pretty cool things the last few years.

I'll admit I still have a sliver of vanity and don't like everything about my body - could really do without the muffin top - thankyouverymuch. I wear make up and exercise to keep my body strong. But when it comes to the hallmarks of aging like wrinkles and gray hairs, I feel honored to be able to have them. There are so many people who never made it to 31, who won't make it to 44.

I will show my sons and daughters how to cherish each day, how to love their bodies and appreciate change around them - and within them. Hopefully they will learn to enjoy their evolving selves. 

I gladly welcome the wiry gray hairs and crows feet. They're my badge of honor from Mother Nature. They are the timeline of my life and the echo of my smile. I will age proudly and with grace and know that my beauty lies in the memories behind my eyes, not the wrinkles around them.