Getting Older, but Not Wiser

It's that time of year again, when my thoughts take a decidedly dark turn.

My birthday is coming up and though I don't feel any older, I can't deny the simple fact that another year has come and gone. In my heart of hearts, in my soul, I haven't "felt" older in a long time.

My body has definitely had other things to say on the subject.

Some of it I accept, as graciously as I can, as it is inevitable.

My eyeglass prescription keeps getting stronger. Either that, or the world is getting smaller and more fuzzy.

My weight has grown in step with my age, and I've had as much luck stopping the advancing numbers on the scale as I have with halting the advance of the numbers on the calendar.

Worst of all is the woman looking back at me in the mirror. More and more, I see my mother staring at me, squinting in the morning light without my glasses. One day all too soon, I fear I am going to be faced with the visage of my grandmother.

The yearly conversation goes something like this:

Me: I need to get a new moisterizer, the old stuff is not working anymore. I'm seeing more and deeper lines around my eyes. 

Husband: What, again? OK, where do you want to go?

Me: I'm also thinking about coloring my hair.

Husband: Are we having this conversation again? Do you know how many women would kill to have naturally red hair? You're crazy. What color would you change it to anyway?

Me: I'm thinking a richer, deeper shade of auburn. To hide the white.

Husband: You're crazy. Don't touch your hair. I love your hair just the way it is.

Bless my husband, he has such patience with me. We literally go through this conversation every year, sometimes more often. And each time, he responds with all the right things to make me feel better.

This year, perhaps because I'm getting closer and closer to entering my fifth decade, I had a new idea.

Me: Well, maybe I should get a wig. You know, to try out a color temporarily.

Husband: WHAT?!?! Hahahahahaha. It's official, you've lost your mind. Do they even make wigs anymore? Are you trying to look like your grandmother?

So, properly chastened and thoroughly reassured that he loves me just the way I am, I give up.

Until next year.