Little Old Me

Two more days and I will be turning the big three – zero. Yup, you read it right. I am turning thirty!

I honestly don’t feel ancient, if that is an apt description. I am beginning to think that age is just a way for us humans to categorize ourselves and everything else on this planet.

Apart from the vacation leave I filed (to ensure I won’t have to work on my big day), I don’t have anything planned at all for Friday. Who knows? I might end up doing a big pile of laundry or maybe I will just look in the mirror all day and wonder how I can stop myself from aging.

I have heard somewhere that aging is one the things that women fear the most. I used to laugh at this. I mean, how preposterous! To be afraid of something that is beyond your control…. But fate had the last laugh – because here I am scared of looking like an old rotten piece of tree.

I literally spend hours in front of the mirror. Constantly in search of new wrinkles, new spots. I have spent a lot of money on facial regimens. I have facial scrubs and washes. Serums, creams for the morning and creams for the evening. I also have toners and eye creams.

Everytime I bring out my arsenal of products, I avoid glancing towards Manuel’s and Joco’s direction. I am sure they are baffled as to what brought on my sudden beauty consciousness. But try as I might, I cannot, for the life of me put a stop to it. I am hooked. Hooked on the idea that there really is a fountain of youth, and that they are in those expensive little bottles I have acquired.

I still believe though that age is a state of mind. That is probably why even though I told myself i would start dressing more appropriately for my age, I still hang on to my Chucks, and for my birthday celebration, Manuel, Joco and yours truly are going to see New Moon. A romantic vampire flick for the thirty year old.

Maybe I cannot stop the wrinkles and age spots from showing. But I’ll be darned if I let my heart grow old.