Sometimes it’s easy to forget who I am.
‘Mummy’ ‘Fiancee”Daughter’ ‘Sister’ ‘Friend’ ‘Aunty’ ‘Cousin’ ‘Grandaughter’ – at the end of the day I’m Just Jenny and sometimes, caught up in the whirlwind of my every day life, I forget that.
Last night, I looked in the mirror. Like properly looked in the mirror. I can honestly say this was the first time in a long time I’d properly looked at myself. No longer graced with that youthful like glow that you exude in your teens and twenties, I saw a 34 year old woman staring back at me in the glass.
Now don’t get me wrong, compared to some of my peers, I honestly don’t think I’m aging too badly – this is certainly no pity party; I’m not into all of that self-deprecation shite and never have been, nor will I ever be. I guess my long winded point, is that finally I no longer see a girl that I’ve identified for so long with.
The laughter lines have appeared (proof I enjoy my life at least!), lines on my fore head are sneakily showing themselves, my once thick eyebrows are starting to thin a little and long gone is the lovely heart shaped jawline I once so lovingly possessed as a younger version of myself.
I could rush out and fill my face with all sorts of fillers and Botox but that’s not the answer for me, well not yet anyway; it only creates more problem areas in time, as I’m not truly wrinkly just yet. No thanks, whatever floats your boat, but me for I’m fine as I am at present.
My body, changed forever following the birth of Prince Harry, has lost it’s ability to bounce back. Again, I’m fairing OK; I was lucky enough not to have any stretch marks, and I’m slim, but for the love of God, I can’t seem to shift the last little bit of baby pouchiness on my tummy as I refer to it as. In my clothes, you’d never notice it, maybe not even swimwear, but I can feel it when I’m sat down and everything is loose!
With the impending nuptials on the way, I’ve made the decision to try and regain some aspects of my youth. Let’s be brutal here, there’s sod all I can do about my face and I could look a lot worse (I know some rough 2o odd year olds, who look haggard as, thanks to a combo of smoking, booze and drugs – shame on them), I don’t look in the mirror and hate myself, so until that day, I’ll live with my face as it is.
The body is another thing. I used to be complimented for a slim figure with cracking legs – I’m never going to flaunt my body the way I did when I was 17 (plus I’m nudging closer to 40 and I’m a Mother now, so I think that ensuring my dignity is in tact is the best thing here; no one one wants to see a saggy woman’s arse hanging from her hot pants as she approaches mid life, I’m no Gisele after all – yuk, yuk , yuk), but I don’t want to be the one who we all judge (yes we all do it, even you, so don’t sit there and exempt yourself from this line of thinking!) – chubby, squashing herself into shorts that are clearly too tight for her, not to mention age in appropriate too.
I will not be that bride, who on my wedding day, everyone under their breath comments how I’ve been packed into that dress – uh, uh no.
So what; I may not be 17 and yes I am closer to 40 than 21, but I’m embracing this. Growing old gracefully is my aim and to ensure that whenever I look in the mirror, an older version may look back each time, and that I’m happy with each version I see.
Life’s too short to get hung up – love yourself – whichever version of yourself you see.