Life's Badges of Honor

I often joke about getting older.   The horrible onset of wrinkles and other physical tattlers of age.  The muffin top around my waist.  The drooping sistas that have lost all elasticity due to 4 babies and their nursing games.  But here's the honest truth - getting older doesn't bother me. In fact, I'm learning to embrace it more all the time.  Sure - who wouldn't want to look 10 years younger?   But I wouldn't want to be 10 years younger.  I feel that I've evolved into somebody that I like and want to continue to get to know better. I'm perfectly imperfect - go back and count how many posts I've written about my weaknesses and flaws in my personality. There are plenty.  But the person that I see in the reflection each morning is someone who has earned every wrinkle on her face - each line reminds me of the distance I have come over the years and the hurdles I have managed.  The lessons learned. The emotional battles fought.  The tender moments of humility or the stings of humiliation.  The natural progression of growing up, getting older, and becoming (hopefully) wiser.  

They say that you never know what a person has gone through until you walk a mile in their shoes.  But how about tracing the lineage of their wrinkles? Wouldn't that be so telling?    

One thing that I have really gained over the years is the ability to not worry about what other's think.  In my youth, I spent way too much time fretting about external opinions and expectations that I had no control over.  I was fearful of doing something embarrassing in front of others. What would they say about me?  Who would they tell?  I held back and missed out on so many opportunities in life.

So now I'm making up for that self-conscious lost time of my youth.

Last Saturday, I was shopping at The Wals-Mart all by my lonesome. No kids. No make-up. No worries that I was wearing badly faded jeans, tenny runners, and a hat to hide my bedhead.  I left my pride at home and was fine with any chance meetings with familiar faces that I might see.  

As my shopping journey unfolded, an opportunity presented itself.  

I could not turn it down.

Call it an early mid-life crisis if you will, but I'm livin' life and not worried about the shouldn'ts, wouldn'ts, couldn'ts.

At almost 38 years old, I didn't need my kids around to have a visit with Santa Claus.

And he didn't even notice my wrinkles.

*Post Note:  Wouldn't the Drooping Sistas be a great name for a book club?  Or maybe a matronly rock band?