Aging. Upsides?
There are a few perks that come with aging. A few.
You're a little less concerned with what people think about you. Or if the lifeguard is looking at you as you flatten yourself down into your towel trying to look as thin as possible. Or if the hot Bruce Springsteen-like record store guy will smirk when you go to pay for the new Go-Go's album.
Being seen with your Mom on a Friday night isn't cause for social humiliation.
You have a better sense of your own style and can ignore the re-introduction of things like prairie skirts and tapered jeans, fair isle sweaters and big, bold patterns. Fitting in because of what you wear just doesn't matter anymore. You can be iconic. You can be unique. You are boho chic. You are sexy curves. You are a surfer girl. You are an Athleta | Title Nine poster child. You are out on the streets looking all sorts of cute in sweats because sweat pants have come a long way since you were a teenager.
You can afford the better hair care products that, of course, your aging dry hair requires.
You wear less make-up. You left dark Kohl eye-liner and home perms somewhere between the NJ Turnpike and the Garden State Parkway trading them in for a more natural look with better mascaras and glowing, dewy blushes. To be fair, you picked up the uber-hot Vamp lipstick from Chanel in the mid-90's, forgetting for a few years that your lips are tiny and should never have attention drawn to them.
Your hair actually rocks now. I mean, relatively speaking. It doesn't suck, at least. What was all the fighting about back in the 80's?
You knew Eddie Murphy when he was really, really funny.
You are way stronger than you ever were. You could kick your own ass. And if you stay at it long enough, while your peers drop off to raise kids, run households, get bored with competing or succumb to injuries, your age group starts to thin out and you grab a few age group titles. You may be the slowest amongst your younger friends but you are the fastest of your age group. You have momentary bragging rights. You pretty much rule for a nanosecond.
You're a little less concerned with what people think about you. Or if the lifeguard is looking at you as you flatten yourself down into your towel trying to look as thin as possible. Or if the hot Bruce Springsteen-like record store guy will smirk when you go to pay for the new Go-Go's album.
Being seen with your Mom on a Friday night isn't cause for social humiliation.
You have a better sense of your own style and can ignore the re-introduction of things like prairie skirts and tapered jeans, fair isle sweaters and big, bold patterns. Fitting in because of what you wear just doesn't matter anymore. You can be iconic. You can be unique. You are boho chic. You are sexy curves. You are a surfer girl. You are an Athleta | Title Nine poster child. You are out on the streets looking all sorts of cute in sweats because sweat pants have come a long way since you were a teenager.
You can afford the better hair care products that, of course, your aging dry hair requires.
You wear less make-up. You left dark Kohl eye-liner and home perms somewhere between the NJ Turnpike and the Garden State Parkway trading them in for a more natural look with better mascaras and glowing, dewy blushes. To be fair, you picked up the uber-hot Vamp lipstick from Chanel in the mid-90's, forgetting for a few years that your lips are tiny and should never have attention drawn to them.
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| Vamp lip color on appropriately-sized lips. |
You knew Eddie Murphy when he was really, really funny.
You are way stronger than you ever were. You could kick your own ass. And if you stay at it long enough, while your peers drop off to raise kids, run households, get bored with competing or succumb to injuries, your age group starts to thin out and you grab a few age group titles. You may be the slowest amongst your younger friends but you are the fastest of your age group. You have momentary bragging rights. You pretty much rule for a nanosecond.
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