Every wrinkle on my face has been carved from joy, from happiness, from deep despair and gripping worry.
I am turning 50 in May and happily am often mistaken as someone ten to fifteen years younger. It’s certainly not because I have looked after myself. In fact, I would say it’s because I have not looked after myself. I am a curvy girl. I actually have this theory and it’s a standing joke with my Mum and I that fat girls don’t age as fast because we fill out our wrinkles.
Not a great excuse to stay fat and I certainly am the first to admit I could lose some weight. But I digress.
I have one scar on my forehead. It’s a chicken pox scar. Apparently I had three pox and all scarred. One on my face. I have another scar under my left eye. Barely noticeable. Thanks to the handiwork of a good GP who cut out a cyst when I was 14. My freckles, from a childhood spent in the sun with no hat or sunscreen are faded. I am one eighth I think Greek. It could be one sixteenth. I know Mum will tell me. But Greeks do age well and I think that DNA is strong in me.
I’ve done a bit of public speaking over the past twelve months and I have saved the videos on YouTube to improve my technique. I’m quite expressive with my face and my eyebrows get quite a workout. Shame I can’t lose calories that way.
Every single crinkle around my eyes reminds me I have smiled, that I have laughed and have felt happiness. So much happiness. There are too many times and memories for me to list. How blessed am I. Fortunately I wasn’t much of a smoker and gave up completely years ago so have no wrinkles around my lips. I think my lips are a bit thinner.
My frown and worry lines have not made an appearance as yet. Surprisingly really! I am a legendary worry wart. I can worry myself about things most people never would imagine.
Despair yes it’s mostly been from mental health issues but I have endured pain. I have lost loved ones. I have felt grief. I had a first love and I walked away from him. That was painful but necessary. I have worried about my husband’s cancer diagnosis and then every single time he has follow up blood tests. They’re not fun. But overall, I think I have been handed a rather good deal when tallying up my joys and woes.
Having a fifteen year old daughter, I have learned some great makeup tricks from her. She has time to watch YouTube tutorials after all. Mind you, I still buy Kmart makeup while I buy her makeup at Mecca Maxima. I have though, learned the importance of wearing primer. All you old girls out there. Get on board. It’s like spakfill. It fills in pores and wrinkles and is amazing. You can still wear light makeup that looks natural. It’s frigging miraculous.
Anyhoo, I love my wrinkles and age marks. I’m grateful to be turning fifty. I love my life. It’s a very simple but rich life.