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Keep Moving Forward

I’m heading out of my 20s in a couple of years. (Two to be exact. Well, two and a half to be ACTUALLY exact.) I have scars, I have tiger stripes (otherwise known as ‘stretch marks’), I have gained weight, lost weight, stayed the same weight for years, grown to 5 foot 6 and stayed there since the 8th grade. Hell, I’ve roughly been the same cup size since the 8th grade.

My body, in spite of its rather stubborn attitude on not making me like the She-Hulk in size or stature, has changed a million times over. My mind, thankfully, has also done so. I constantly look back and think “How naïve, you little bird.”. Not in a malicious or condescending way, more in an affable guider-of-the-spirit way.

If there is one thing I’ve taken from my journey as a human being and a soul, it’s that I am a human being and a soul.

Which means that I change. I change so much I’m not even the same person I was a month ago. (Which is good since she was jobless and couldn’t write a word beyond “Me like this book.”)

The one thing I’m not completely interested in changing, however, is something no one would really expect from me, I’m sure. It’s something people envy a lot and curse me for having and I get compliments from strangers on it. (Yes, it creeps me out.)

My skin.

I’m all for battle wounds and fluctuations in weight, but please, dear Lord, let me keep my skin wrinkle free. Note: This is not a vanity thing. I have no plans to alter the course my skin is on via medical surgery type things. I do moisturize, I exfoliate (but I also sleep with make up on and don’t wash my face for days because I’m an animal), I admire the smoothness of it and the natural glow it seems to have of its own accord, but I don’t sit in front of the mirror thinking “Goddamn, I’m a beautiful creature” for longer than any person should. (Although most people should spend at least 5 minutes a day saying that to themselves, it really boosts your confidence.). What I’m not appreciating is the dark circles ever growing under my eyes and the wrinkles that are trying to make friends with my forehead.

What an absurd part of my face to go first. Which clearly states that I frown, question, and make plenty of faces at myself and other human beings.

Here’s my only alteration I hope to make to my skin in the coming years:

If it is the universes plan (and natures, I suppose) to let my beautiful shell age then let the lines that appear be laugh lines. Smooth the creases from the frowns and bring forth the crows feet and dimples of a good laugh.

Aging is a privilege and I want to make sure I appreciate that to the fullest extent.

Keep moving forward.

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