Mother Nature and Father Time are #AssholeParents

Mother Nature and Father Time Are #AssholeParentsLast Saturday I decided to spend my free day out of the house celebrating my 35th birthday by shopping the anti-aging aisle at Ulta. And before you start preaching about the fine art of aging gracefully let me stop you right there. Aging gracefully doesn’t mean you stand back and let Father Time march all over you while Mother Nature smacks you upside the head. Have I told you before that Father Time and Mother Nature are #AssholeParents? No? Well they are.

Mother Nature, that old bat, squanders tight skin and perky places on the young. They have no idea how valuable they are! If they did they would take better care of them.

And Father Time? He’s the biggest asshole of the pair. When things are glorious and happy he zips along like the elevator in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. This way and that, up down and sideways until your head is spinning and all of your memories of those times are hazy and glimmering like a half drunk glass of champagne. Then when the going gets tough he digs in his heels and you are stuck in a mile long line at the bank with a cranky four year old and terrorist toddler with a smelly diaper.

Life dips and dives  and can leave you feeling queasy. The roller coaster slows and you are stuck in the dark listening to the clank, clank, clank of the mechanism as it climbs the track and you have no idea if you are going to drop forward or back and what surprises will be there to great you. Two minutes can seem like two years. And before you know it the ride has jolted forward and for a moment you are thrilled when you feel your skin tighten from the g-force just as the camera flashes  and you can’t wait to see the photo. Except then you realize your previously perky places are somewhere around your armpits. 

Aging itself is not the problem. I wouldn’t dare go backwards. Tight skin and perky places are not worth giving up the lessons learned with maturity. It’s the speed with which it occurs. The creams, concealers are not to mask and the push ups and slimmers are not to deceive. It is to allow us to briefly, if just for a moment, gain a glimpse of who we used to be. Time whisk by and he leaves us standing in the mirror wondering who that is peering back. She looks familiar but different in so many ways.

However, even as I bemoan my fleshy pieces it’s these that my boys snuggle into as we lay on the floor watching Winne The Pooh. And my deflated beach balls exist because I was able to breastfeed. Those stubborn lines on my face are etched with laughter. It’s these things we should focus on as we stand in front of the mirror. And for those days when we can’t there are always BB creams and Spanx to see us through. And Vicky will always keep your secrets, though I would prefer she used some stronger elastic to hold them in.

Take care of your body ladies, it is fabulous and it has to last you a lifetime.