One day we’ll be really old.
Older than we are now.
And I wonder if we will wish we didn’t worry about such trivial things.
Like our bodies.
Like the younger girls who wear crop tops while we hide the stretch marks that brought life, and wish we had appreciated what we had.
And for what.
For who, even?
I don’t look at myself as long in the mirror now, because I notice new lines and scrutinize my newly textured skin.
But this is aging, it’s normal and yet I turn away from the mirror as if it’s my fault.
I see myself and think,
Look after yourself.
Put a face mask on.
You’re looking haggard.
Everyone will get to this stage, yes everyone.
The ones we look at wistfully, they will too.
We all will.
I don’t know where this insecurity even leapt out from.
But suddenly I just felt so unfamiliar while spraying in my dry shampoo for the umpteenth day.
I know the voice inside is what's ugly not me, but still here we are.
Maybe I didn’t hear often enough growing up that women were beautiful in their natural state or
after birth or while tending to their children.
Pregnancy is beautiful, but what of the woman after? The one who doesn’t do workouts every day to try bounce back?
I have changed in the 3 years I’ve had kids, I wear a tiredness I’ve never worn before, sun doesn’t bounce of my face as easily as shadows sink in and it has a type of surrender to it.
But also a softness, and a knowing.
A different sort of kindness.
And despite my husbands kind words I still find myself pushing his compliments away.
But I don’t want my little girl to pick herself apart in the mirror one day because of her genetics. Something she has no control over, something we shouldn’t feel we need to control.
So I won't either.
We’re so lucky to win this lottery of life, to bring life, and still we worry about how we look after we have seen incredible things, done incredible things, made incredible things.
The thing is, yes motherhood has become me, is that such a bad thing? I know self care is important, but maybe the way I look now is a reflection of giving.
And I’d keep giving anything to look older and marked if it meant having them, there’s just no comparison.
It’s crazy really.
Will we only make peace with what we see when we can’t see anything?