Cold and rainy, now snowy day. I just wanted to put on my old ugly fleece coat. The one I was surprised to find in the closet since it was from when I was pregnant, has a busted belt loop, and possibly a paint splotch on it. But it’s like wearing a blanket on a wet cold dreary day even if it’s a definite decision to be frumpy.
I made the opposite decision yesterday when I decided to not go out looking and feeling frump-a-liscious. I heated up the curling iron and put on some make-up darn it. It’s not about what I think others are thinking but what I’m telling myself that matters.
Turning 40 is tough and turning 50 is tougher. The loss of collagen in my skin, the droopy eyelids, and my hair falling out are all part of some nasty little nightmare that I keep hoping I’ll wake up from. But instead, I’m judging myself for not getting over it and moving on. The self-bullying isn’t taking away the signs of aging and neither are the creams. The only weapon against aging is wisdom. And the mirror I need to be looking is my soul mirror.
Meanwhile, I also believe that I can still do everything in my power to look as good as I can at this age. So keeping fit, applying sunscreen, drinking water, and regularly getting my eyebrows weeded and toenails painted are all ways that I feel less crappy and less frumpy. And coming this week, a little highlighting in my hair. Because it’s just time. And how you regard and treat yourself is how others will regard and treat you. And I’m feeling like I’m wanting some world love right now.
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