As Good As I Once Was

I had an interesting conversation with an old friend last night, and I’ve thought about it all day.

It’s not the first time this has come up recently.  In fact, my fabulous friend Tracy even wrote about it a few weeks ago.

Age.

Aging.

Ageless.

An interesting concept, but admittedly not one I’ve devoted a lot of time to considering.  I’ve never been concerned about my age.  I really don’t care that I’m getting older.  I’ve never minded the changes that come with it, either.

The forehead wrinkles, just starting to form

The bags under my eyes, even on the rare occasion I’m wearing makeup, because I no longer have the luxury of sleep

The stretch marks on my hips that helped me usher 3 little lives into the world.

{I’ll spare you that visual. You’re welcome.}

Although I’ve not yet seen a gray hair, I really don’t care if they come, either.  Vain I am not.  I gave up vanity years ago, when I discovered that I actually like myself just as I am, and I don’t have the time/money/energy to doll myself up so others do, too.   This is it, people – take it or leave it.

But then the conversation.

It was accidental, really – just where the flow of the words took us.  And I’m sure I won’t remember the exact phrasing, but it was something along the lines of, “It’s just kind of depressing to realize that this is it.  I will never look or feel any better than I do right now.”

Well when you put it like that…

Yeah.

Humph.

So it is kind of depressing, isn’t it?  This is it.  This is as good as it gets, from here on out.

{Thanks so much for pointing that out, too, by the way.}

What makes that hard for me to accept is that I don’t really see myself as I am, even now.  I still see this girl

while sadly, the rest of you see this one

The woman you see is older and wiser, no doubt…

But the girl I see is a whole lot hotter.

And today, I am just vain enough to miss her.

I ain’t as good as I once was…and I’m not sure that I’m as good once as I ever was, either.

Drat.