“Well, you’re not getting any uglier.”
Those were the first words out of my grandfather’s mouth the other night when he saw me for the first time in over a year.
Gee, thanks Poppop.
I know that it was an attempt at humor, but still, his comment stung. It also made me pause and consider: Is this what I can expect from now on? Are back-handed compliments the most I can hope for?
Have I hit the age/stage where my “prettiness” is on its inevitable decline and the fact that I’ve staved off “the ugly” for the time being is seen as a success worthy of commenting on?
Am I just a few years away from dark circles, crows feet, and crepe-paper neck skin?
I know I shouldn’t worry about something as unstoppable as “aging”, especially when I’m still in my twenties, but honestly, I’ve done some pretty irreparable damage to my skin. I’ve worshipped the sun in Mexico, Argentina, Cape Cod, and the Caribbean. Frequent trips to Miami in recent years have been nothing more than an opportunity to soak up future skin cancers.
Can I take it back? Without doing the type of cosmetic work that could turn me into Joan Rivers (or, these days, Lindsay Lohan), can I maintain the youthful attributes I’ve still got? Maybe this is my peak. Maybe it’s all downhill from here. Maybe I’m already on the decline…
Ok. Time to stop stressing. All this anxiety I’m feeling about getting older is just going to give me wrinkles!!