Face it, pretty much all of us look, if not worse for wear, at least changed by the elements that have touched us over the years. Those changes can be marks of distinction rather than losses of beauty, but they come to us all—even those of us carved in stone.
What about your appearance surprises you as you’ve aged?
The giddy girl who used to live in me has left the building. I now have old, experienced eyes behind this face, much like a mama lion that no longer reflects the wonders of the world like that of her frolicking kittens. Savvy. Been there, done that. Watch out! Not everyone is as nice as they first appear.
Daily meditation refreshes my soul when I look upon the beautiful side of nature; otherwise, my lined face personally and beautifully road maps the loss of innocence, the destinations based on experience, the battle between bitterness and betterment–the discernment that only comes with old age.
I was somewhat surprised at my chronically red eyes (side effect of the glaucoma medication I take), and sometimes I’m still surprised about how much it bothers me.
My acne persisting so many years after puberty also surprised me. I thought people had a relatively brief period with acne while undergoing hormonal changes and that adults no longer had to deal with it on a regular basis. While it’s not always on my face, it’s still very much there.
The most recent surprise about my appearance isn’t about my body directly: I’m getting tired wearing black. I started wearing primarily black in my early teens. At first it was plain black all over, though soon I also wore some black shirts with pictures or writing on them. Just a couple of years ago, I started wearing white shirts in the summer to lessen the intensity of the sun’s glare, but I still looked forward to cooler weather so I could go back to my beloved black. Starting a few weeks ago, though, I’ve longed for some vivid color. I don’t have the money to completely change my wardrobe, and maybe this is just some sort of phase…
Although I seem to affect others as one who doesn’t look her age (and this is given as a compliment, I think), I know that there are obvious parts of my body that demonstrate the ravages of time. I look at my hands which have served me so well throughout my life, and still do, but have brown marks, and blue veins and weathered skin and think that I should say “Thank you” to them for still working wonders for me every day.