Lately, I’ve found myself preoccupied with some unexpected companions that have surfaced in my otherwise calm life. At 39, with two children who are now school-aged, I thought my days of intensive caregiving were behind me—until my parents started to age. I had envisioned at least a decade of carefree living ahead, reminiscent of my twenties. Days where time felt abundant and nights were spent peacefully in bed with just my husband, free from the disturbances of young children and the sweats of impending menopause. In essence, I was living a worry-free existence.
Then came last night. My daughter, in her innocence, decided to draw a portrait of me. With her markers, she depicted my forehead with six prominent lines. It hit me: I’m officially wrinkled.
Initially, I didn’t recognize these markings as anything significant. After all, she’s only five, and while I believe in her artistic talents, mistakes happen. When she presented her artwork to me, I praised the colors and her attention to detail, asking her about those extra lines.
“What are those?” I inquired, smiling as I pointed at the wavy horizontal marks on the paper.
“Your lines,” she answered matter-of-factly. “On your face.” As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then she fixated on my forehead.
“Oh,” I replied, still smiling.
“Oh,” I said again, this time without the smile.
When I asked her if she could still see them when I styled my hair to cover my forehead, she exclaimed, “Yes! You can!” with such enthusiasm, you would think it was a reason to celebrate.
Curious, I turned to my older son for his thoughts on my newfound wrinkles. He casually remarked, “You can’t really see them when it’s dark.” Apparently, he had already noticed them. Standing in a well-lit room, I shifted to a dimmer hallway and asked again. “It has to be darker.” He replied, “Much darker.”
That evening, I attempted to exude youth and energy during our bedtime routine. I skipped down the hall with my daughter to fetch her pajamas, performed a jig in my son’s room until he pleaded for me to leave, and even did the hula while helping them brush their teeth. It was a bit chaotic, but I felt my display of youthful spirit justified the mess.
Since that moment, I’ve made an effort to embrace my wrinkles as new companions. I’ve been diligently caring for them, having bought new creams and a special rotating brush for our nightly routine. I even ordered a satin pillow to ensure they remain comfortable and youthful. A dermatologist appointment has been scheduled in their honor, but what happens there remains to be determined.
My husband has heard plenty about these new companions, and while he’s supportive, he’s not keen on naming them. I’ve been brainstorming ideas and have made it a point to include them in conversations. After all, that’s what good friends do, and I want them to feel acknowledged. I’ve become aware of how often acquaintances ask how I’m doing; it’s a lovely way to connect. I now respond that my wrinkles and I are doing just fine.
These wrinkle friends have turned into a bit of a hobby for me, with much of my time spent researching their care and future options. There’s a wealth of information available online, and I’m starting to see them as the reliable companions they truly are; they’re always by my side, and we spend plenty of time together in front of the mirror. I like to think they feel well-acquainted now.
While I know people who have erased their wrinkles with treatments like needles and lasers, I fear the side effects that might come with those choices. I’d rather have my wrinkle friends. Consequently, we’ve decided to cancel the dermatologist appointment, and I’ve made it a priority to keep the lights dim from now on.
This journey of acceptance has been enlightening, and I’m learning to appreciate the stories and experiences etched on my face.
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Summary:
The author reflects on the surprising presence of wrinkles as new companions in her life at 39. After her daughter’s innocent drawing highlights her forehead lines, she embarks on a journey of acceptance and care for these “friends.” Through humor and introspection, she explores her feelings about aging, ultimately deciding to embrace her wrinkles instead of pursuing cosmetic treatments, emphasizing the importance of self-acceptance in the aging process.
Keyphrase: Embracing wrinkles
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