I look in the mirror and and wonder where I had gone. Where did that flawless, youthful looking me go? Why is this middle aged woman with slack, lackluster and wrinkled face staring back at me? I had started to panic, I was scared I had missed something in between youth and middle age. How did I get here so fast?
Then, swift like a douse of cold water, I remember. It was that thing that happened a long time ago when I decided I deserved more. It was that time when I chose to follow my heart and be with a man. Not just any man, mind you. I wanted one who could make me laugh. Well, he was handsome too, but that’s not supposed to matter
The thing is, the more I look at myself in the mirror lately, I remember now why I look this way and it makes me happy. I get more beautiful the more I stare at myself.
I see every line on my face and remember the countless moments when we laughed so hard our stomaches ached.
I remember all the times when I cried I was so happy.
I was always beautiful even during the times when I looked worn, fat and unkept. I didn’t need a mirror then, I just needed his eyes.
When I went to look for a new bathing suit this past summer, I realized why the skirted one piece and tankinis were so popular with women my age and there were no yellow polka dotted bits in that department.
But I looked closer and realized that my body has become a map. It has gone and done what even my journals and blogs could not do. It has recorded every important milestone in my life and created this landscape on me. Every peak and valley, every twist and turn were all right there. All the parts are laid out just as they were meant to be. Raw, unaltered, honest and well-worn.
All I have to do is to look and realize… Hey, I don’t look bad at all! In fact, I do believe that man is not joking whenever he marvels at how beautiful I am…. wrinkles and all.