38

I have been blessed with good "youth" genes.  The women in my family do not look their respective ages.  I don't know if it's the fair skin, but I have always been mistaken for someone much younger.  Well, not always.  Not now.  I think my age has finally caught up to me.  I look in the mirror and wonder what happened to the fresh-faced, non-wrinkled young woman I was just a few short years ago.   Now the woman I see in the mirror has crows feet, dark circles under her eyes, uneven skin tone, and an extra chin (or two).  The woman I see looks old.

In a few hours I will be 38.  Thirty-freakin-eight.  Two years shy of (God help me) FORTY.  That scares the bejesus out of me.  But it doesn't have to.

Up until a few years ago, I managed to spit in the eye of my good genes.  I treated myself like total crap by not exercising and eating gobs and gobs of unhealthy food.  And now it shows.  In the past 6 years I've gained 70 pounds.  Wow.  Seriously.  Wow.  Seeing this in print is giving me heart palpitations.   Regardless, it has to be said, because I don't know how else to wake myself up from the self-loathing I've been putting myself through.  

Why are so many of us, especially women, so unkind to ourselves?  Why do I stress about my children eating healthy foods and then I hit the McDonald's drive-thru?  Don't answer that.  I know why.

On the eve of my 38th birthday, I'm giving myself a present:

• I vow to love myself.
• I vow to be kind to myself.
• I vow to make some life changes in order to be healthy.

I'll keep you posted.  Who knows?  Perhaps that fresh-faced girl will show up in my mirror again.