Lately, I’ve been paying a lot of attention to some new companions that have unexpectedly joined my life. At 39, with two school-age kids, I thought my days of intense caregiving were behind me—until my parents started aging. I envisioned a decade of carefree living, similar to my twenties, with long hours stretching before me, ending with peaceful nights beside my husband. I felt like I had it all under control, especially since my children were sleeping through the night, and I was in that sweet spot between nightly wake-ups and menopausal sweats.
Then, just last night, my daughter, in her innocent creativity, drew a portrait of me complete with six noticeable lines across my forehead. I didn’t recognize them at first; after all, she’s just five and we all make artistic mistakes. But when she pointed out those lines, I was suddenly faced with the reality: I have wrinkles.
As I smiled and asked her about her drawing, she assured me those lines were on my face. I tried to laugh it off, but when she said I could hide them by sweeping my hair forward, it was hard not to feel a pang of realization. I turned to my son for his opinion, and he casually mentioned that in the dark, they’re less visible.
Determined to feel youthful, I engaged in a bit of playful energy during our bedtime routine, dancing and being silly. However, since discovering my new ‘friends,’ I’ve made it a point to care for them. I’ve bought special creams and even a rotating brush to pamper them nightly. I treated myself to a satin pillow to ensure they rest well. I even scheduled a dermatologist appointment to discuss their future, though I’m unsure if I truly want that.
My husband, supportive as he is, doesn’t want to partake in naming these new companions. I’ve thought about including them in conversations to ensure they feel acknowledged. People I encounter often ask how I am, and I now respond that my wrinkles and I are doing just fine, thank you.
These wrinkle buddies have become a sort of hobby for me. Researching their care options occupies much of my time, as I explore the vast information available online and spend moments gazing at them in the mirror. I realize that while others may opt for drastic measures to eliminate their lines, I’d rather embrace my wrinkles and their presence.
With that in mind, I’ve decided to cancel my dermatologist appointment. From now on, I’ll just keep the lights dim.
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In summary, I’m learning to embrace my wrinkles as companions rather than flaws. With a playful spirit, I’ve started to care for them, acknowledging their presence in my life, and finding joy in accepting this new chapter of aging.
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