I got out of the shower and looked at my face in the mirror. I’ve seen this face before, of course, but it seems lately, every time I look at myself, someone different is looking back. My skin no longer has an even tone, the bags under my eyes are becoming more prominent and there are new, unwelcome lines on my face. I stood in front of the mirror, wanting to know how to embrace my new wrinkles when I still feel so young.
I’ve noticed them before. As these changes were coming on, I tried not to pay attention. I quickly performed my usual after-shower routine and ran out of the bathroom, because someone in the house needed me.
But this time was different. This time I stood in front of the mirror, and I stared. I looked at every detail of my face, every new line. I took in all the changes, subtle and not. I felt an overwhelming wish to find the best wrinkle cream in the world that would fix me, no matter the cost. I wanted to look like I did before I had kids.
I wanted the wrinkles gone
And then I remembered, just a few short weeks back, one of my sons came to the door of my room as I was putting cream on my face. He asked if he could come in, and I said yes. He stood there, looking at me for a short while. Then he smiled, and said, “Mama, you are the most beautiful girl in the world.”
The most beautiful girl in the world
Back then, I smiled, hugged him, told him he was sweet, and that was it.
But today I thought about his words. Really thought about them. He told me I was beautiful. With the newly formed wrinkles and the bags under my eyes, I was beautiful to him.
I remembered my grandmother. I thought about her smiling face, her gentle hands, her kind words, her peaceful voice. I remembered how much I loved being around her. And you know what I didn’t remember? Her wrinkles and her age spots.
She was beautiful
She was beautiful inside, and she was beautiful on the outside.
I smiled back at myself in the mirror. And those lines became a bit deeper. My smile showed my lines even more.
I understood it then. Those lines were formed after years of emotion, laughter or otherwise. Years of happiness and joy, with some sadness and worry in between. I kept looking. I looked, and I saw my wrinkles as a diary, written on my face. They are little touches of my story.
I decided to embrace my new wrinkles
I want to stay looking young. Sure, I will still try to minimize the fine lines, but I realize that they will never be gone for good, and that’s ok. I’ve decided to accept my wrinkles. They will come, and they will stay.
Instead of lamenting over the new traces of life on my face, I will do my absolute best to be beautiful on the inside, so I can be forever beautiful to my children, and God willing, my future grandchildren.
I choose to love my wrinkles. I choose not to complain about the little things. Because that’s what wrinkles are. Little things. They tell my story. And my story is one to keep.
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