Proof of Life

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Perhaps this is a bit counter-society, but I’ve been on a quest to learn to know and love myself, and in that quest, I’ve really started to notice the signs of my rapidly approaching 40’s on my body and face. I see these signs more on these lazy days when I skip the makeup, only wearing the smudgy leftovers of last night’s fun, because I never did get the hang of washing my face every night. The proof that I have lived and laughed hard are obvious in the wrinkles around the eyes, (which themselves are ongoing proof of my zest for life), the worn out pockets below my eyes are proof that I have worried and sacrificed and had many sleepless nights and made difficult decisions, the extra flab on my hips and chin is proof of a passion for cake and all things delicious, the frequent wincing and occasional limping in pain is proof that I chased adventure and got muddy last weekend, and the freckles and blotchy skin is proof that I chased life playing out in the sun. So, as I approach 40 (estimated arrival in  9.7 hours), I am definitely starting to see the consequences of aging. And I would not change a thing.  This is my proof of life.  Of REALLY living.

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