Dang! When did I get old?

I've been worried about looking old for about going on 32 years and I have seriously been working to prevent it in every imaginable way. 

I can distinctly remember, at age 21, standing at the bathroom sink and pushing my face closer to the mirror to check out my eyes. I wanted to be sure that there weren't any crows-feet starting to show. I was twenty-one frickin' years old. I had bought into the Mary Kay fantasy and had sworn on the pink jar of youthfulness that I would be ever vigilant. 

Inside my often shallow heart, I would feel vindicated any time a high school classmate would tell me how I hadn't aged since high school. It just fed into my fantasy. 

Last month, while looking for an old document, I came across a photo of me taken in 1990 - at the ripe old age of 29. I just stared at the aged newsprint photo and the walls of my "I'm-not-aging" fantasy world started to tumble down. (And I realized, I sort of like my hair longer...)

Tonight, as I got ready for bed, I realized that nothing I can do will stop the aging process. There are no magic creams that will keep the wrinkles away forever. (Although, I've heard there are surgeries) 

I guess it is some relief that others are aging, too, but not much. (Remember this is all about me)

I looked in the mirror and accepted myself for who I am. At least for now.