Getting Older - Not for the Faint of Heart

My sweet Caroline went on a walk with me the other day. It was such a beautiful day that I snapped a picture of the two of us.

When I was going through photos later, my first thought was "Ooh. Good picture of me." 

My second thought went something like "waaait a minute...," at which point I girded my loins and zoomed in.

My third thought was...well, it was more like an inner sigh, where the air I lost was replaced with a feeling of resigned sadness. At fifty years old there's no faking it, I'm looking older. (I could provide a zoomed-in picture at this point but I'm not doing your work for you).

DO NOT SAY ANYTHING such as "you look great" or "age is just a number" or the like. That's not why I'm writing this. I am getting older, and no skincare routine, superfood, or surgery is going to change it. Current attitudes seem to demand that I snap my fingers and crow about how "I wouldn't go back" and "I'm so much better now," and these things are true. I wouldn't go back. I am so much better now.

But that's not we really want, is it? Ideally we would keep all of the growth and lessons and hard-earned wisdom and we would keep the taut, luminous skin, the energy, and the...lack of joint pain, honestly. Forget about which side has the greener grass, I want the fence in between!

The fence in between does not exist, and so I hereby acknowledge my grief about what I cannot have.*

*What I cannot have yet. Silver lining, beeyotches!