This afternoon I sat staring at the reflection of the 40 year old woman who is me. Lines. I saw lines. Around my mouth, between my brows, across my forehead. Where did they come from? How do they seem to grow deeper by the day? When did I become so old? Botox. Maybe that’s what I need. I was covering the gray today; why not hide everything else that reveals my aging body?
The judgement stopped me. I thought of my mom. With locks of lovely spun silver. Crevices around her mouth from which laughter spills. Crinkles surrounding her eyes deep with love. Wrinkles trolling across a forehead embracing a mind of intelligence and wisdom.
I look like my mom. I look like the beauty who bore me. I am becoming the woman who never has tried to be anyone or anything else.
So it is. I can love myself this way. I WILL love myself this way. I’ll look at this image with tenderness and grace. I’ll ask gently for the preoccupations with perfection to be lifted.
I’ll practice loving you, as you are and as you will be, I said to myself and smiled.