My youth is fading in visible ways.
To illustrate the changes I've seen in the past decade I'll share with you the most notable quotable from my house for the year 2010.
While looking in the mirror after weighing my self on the bathroom scale I declared: "I'm just not as cute as I used to be."
Husband: "If by cute you mean a size 2, then you haven't been cute in years."
I erupt in laughter, because sometimes the truth is hilarious.
Husband: Grabs my hand and says, "But if cute is bright blue eyes, short sassy hair and a sharp sense of humor, then I imagine you will be cute forever."
And I melt thinking, how did I luck out finding a man that finds me attractive for the person I really am?!?
That's not to say I've closed up shop and let it all hang out. OH NO! Never! If I leave the house I normally have make up on. I have a personal relationship with my hair dresser and know how to dress modestly, yet fashionably for my body type. I absolutely intend on being cute forever.
I have however mentally conceded to myself that I am no longer attractive to younger men, and that is OK. Heads no longer turn when I walk by. Salespeople don't tell me I'm the absolute perfect size for their petite section in their store any more. People now refer to me as "Lady" instead of "Miss" and absolutely NO ONE has asked me if I'm my daughter's nanny in over 5 years. Apparently I look just old enough to be the mother of four, thank you very much.
My aging has seeped considerably into my subconcious as well. I had a dream a few months ago where I was back at the dorms in Heritage Halls at BYU. I had 5 young and glorious roommates and we were preparing to go to class. On the way out the door, some guys from the next hall came calling and I was reveling in the glory of my newfound youth when I suddenly realized that I wasn't my 18 year old self. I was 34, and looked like it! I woke up with a start thinking "I'm married, with kids! I don't belong here anymore." You know the store in some shopping malls in the United States called Forever 21? Well my brain will not let me live in that fantasy world. I am physically and mentally 34 years old.
There are many reading this who are yelling at their computer screens, "34 is young! Oh to be 34 again!" To which I would reply, "I agree. I'm loving it." But I'm also looking forward to the years ahead. From talking to women who surround me in Relief Society it sounds pretty great to be 50, 60 and 70+. So much wisdom and peace. Nearly every license plate cover at church proclaims "Happiness is being a grandparent" or "Grandma's my name, Spoilin's my game." My husband and I are itching for the time when we can serve full time missions together or be temple workers. My mother, grandmother and members of my Relief Society have convinced me that what lies ahead is a richness that can only be experienced by growing older.
Sure, it was nice being young and desirable at one time. But I look forward to the rest of my life with great eagerness for my future. Age spots, saggy boobs and all. BYU grad or not, you won't find me moving to Cougar Town.
A guest post by Janelle Janelle is the wife of a contractor and mother to a gaggle of girls ranging from eight years to two months. Her passion is member missionary work and she can regularly be found answering questions like "Do Mormons Celebrate Birthdays?" at Mormonwoman.org.