Once upon a time, in a land close, close by lived a woman untouched by age.
Sounds like some fairy tale, huh? I assure you that I am NOT living the dream. The years have not been kind to me. Or rather, through out the years I have not been kind to myself. Don't get me wrong. Whenever I hear someone complaining about getting older, my rejoinder is a quick, "Sure beats the alternative." No way to quit the aging process unless it is to quit the living process. I'll take getting old every time.
I don't mind the wrinkles around the eyes. They have been developed over a lifetime of laughter. I will sport crows feet like a badge of honor. Takes some hard earned wisdom to learn to laugh at life and all it's foibles. What do I care if people see I've gained that knowledge? Parenthesis around the mouth - fine by me. Gray hair in the scalp - not a problem. Native Americans view gray hair as a sign of intelligence. I can embrace that point of view. All the time spent concerned and questioning are etched upon my brow and the crease that resides there. What's a life free of worry and doubt? None of us make it through without experiencing some of that.
The only thing that I absolutely hate about the years piling on, is that they bring arthritis with them. The kind that keeps one up at night and limping during the day. That I can do without. For some reason, my brain cannot fathom that I am the age my body declares it to be. In the fairytale going on in my head, I am an eternal twenty five. If there is one thing I've learned in the passing years it's that whoever said, "Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone." knows of which they speak. No truer words were ever uttered in the English language.