“every time that I look in the mirror
all these lines on my face getting clearer..”   – Aerosmith

I have made it clear in past posts that no one will ever say of me “she aged gracefully.”  No, I will go down kicking and screaming the whole way.  But I HAVE promised to try to be better about my anti-aging attitude, to not be so filled with fear of my advancing years.  I’m trying to take a page from the playbook of older women I truly admire, those who have maintained great attitudes, pure beauty and a joy about every one of life’s milestones.

Well, my new attitude would be a whole lot easier to maintain if it weren’t for the S.O’s, or “Sudden Overnights.”  These are the little signs of aging that literally seem to appear overnight.  The ones we swear were NOT there the day before.

For example…. Last week, I was doing my usual routine of getting ready for work, trying to get my hair to cooperate, and I was fussing with one section that did not seem to want to behave.  With shock, I leaned in and realized that the hairs in the fussy area were NOT blonde. They were grey!!  There was a small army of greys mounting an attack on the top of my head.  And they were NOT there the day before.

Similarly, my sister-in-law told me that she had been tempted to call me on her cell phone in a panic from the shoe store the other day.  She had gone shoe shopping and to her horror suddenly discovered wrinkles around her ankles.   Who knew we’d get wrinkles around our ankles?  Aren’t wrinkles around our eyes bad enough?

Then one of my BFF’s texted me when the elasticity of the skin on the back of her hands seemed to have given away…. Yup, you guessed it:  OVERNIGHT.

And how about waking up to realize that our boobs have fallen another half an inch lower…. OVERNIGHT.

Ok, I know, some of you are saying that these things can’t really happen that suddenly.  That age is a progression, bit by bit, and we just don’t see what we don’t WANT to see until we can no longer ignore it.  But that doesn’t help the shock of seeing something new, some formerly undiscovered sign in the mirror that is proof that we can no longer pass as 20-somethings, or even 30-somethings.

Yes, I am incredibly thankful that I am here to complain about my wrinkles, and hope that I will continue to be around to complain for many years to come.  But truly…..can’t it happen just a wee bit more slowly?

How about one grey hair once a year?  THAT is the kind of speed I could cope with.