Tomorrow I turn 28, the only way for me to think about this is that instead of being a year older, I’m simply a day older than I was today. I’ve disliked the idea of getting older since I turned 22, I never thought of seeing myself older than that, I never wanted to “look 30.” Now I’m 2 years closer and I’m cringing thinking of myself wearing the crap you see in Sears catalogues instead of skull printed tops.
I’ve always feared the idea of aging, I found my first gray hair when I was pregnant, it was bright silver against my dark brown hair and I wanted to cry, I remember ripping that sucker off my head and glaring at it. I’ve woken up with dark circles under my eyes and puffy eyes… I’m awaiting the day I actually get crows feet and wrinkles. I guess it’s because thus far I’ve always been viewed a lot younger than I really am. I’m still carded for absolutely everything and I enjoy it. I surprise people at work when they think I’m still 18-21 (and with a 2 year old!)
I took extra care with being pregnant that I didn’t get stretch marks, that afterwards I exercised and tightened myself back up and got into better shape than I’ve ever been. I try to eat healthy and maintain somewhat of a balanced life, hopefully that’ll be enough along with being vain as heck with taking care of my skin.
So tonight I’m going to go out and enjoy like I’m 22 again and for an evening forget that 28 is hours away. I’m hoping I won’t do the Cinderella/mom thing and crap out at midnight and drag my tired ass home well before curfew.