I am not proud of the story I am about to tell you, but I do so because I feel it is important for you to know that I am not as perfect as you think.  It might make you feel less inferior to realize I too occasionally have a bad day.

It was our last morning in Hawaii and the entire family was having breakfast together. Don had taken a few pictures and (here is the problem with instant access) I was not happy with how I looked.  I thought, “hmm I look older”, but instantly put it aside so as not to ruin the mood.  On the way back to the room to pick up our luggage and leave the following conversation occurred:

Me:  Don, I feel like I have really aged this year.  I don’t think I look forty anymore. (I am 52).

Don: You don’t look older.  You still look forty. (Good husband.)

Me:  No I don’t.  Sofie how old do I look?

Sofie: Forty-seven.

Don:  Sofie!

Me: Forty-seven?  Are you kidding me?  I don’t look that old.

Sofie:  Mom you are being ridiculous. That is still five years younger.

Don: Sofie!!

Me:  Big deal five years!  I want to look forty.

Sofie:  Well, that’s ambitious.

Don: Sofie!!!!

I then proceeded to actually cry all the way to the air port . I knew I had been kidding myself and that time had cruelly caught up to me.  I am no longer attractive and I will have to develop some sort of “skill” or “talent” to get through the rest of my life.  After we checked in for our flight and Don told me I was being overly dramatic and ruining our vacation (jeez) I began crying again and said, “But I don’t want to have surgery!  Maybe it is time to try botox or fillers.”  Don rolled his eyes at me and said I didn’t need them. Good husband.

Why is it so fricking hard to age?  I hate that I live in a town where at fifty-two I look older than the other fifty-two-year-olds who are injecting their faces with silicone and numbing their foreheads.  Trust me, I have no judgements and I reserve the right to do it myself, but I wish it wasn’t a big deal to get older.  I had this idea that I would age gracefully and naturally like my Grandmother did.  But so far I am not going gently into that good night.  Besides, I don’t know how she really felt.   Maybe she struggled sometimes too, but she never complained and she made aging look beautiful. She told me once that her favorite age to be was whatever age she was at the time.  O.K.  Now I really feel like a loser.

My problem is I am the laziest vain person I know.  I think about how I look all the time but I hate taking the time to put on make up or blow dry my hair and I really like my sweat pants.   I am not happy that my skin is  beginning to fall off my face but I am not interested in doing anything to stop it. In a head to head contest lazy still beats vain.  Maybe some of my Grandma rubbed off on me after all.  I can only continue to hope.