Signs of adulthood: wrinkly faces

by Katie on May 15, 2012

When I complain about the once familiar, now foreign, humidity when visiting my family, my dad always had the same response: “It keeps me looking young.”

I used to simply roll my eyes and laugh
at this. But lately, I have unfortunately discovered my old man may have been on to something.

Because he doesn’t look old. But I am starting to.

And the only explanation I can possibly conjure up for that is the desert.

When I moved here, I was complimented on my “nice” skin. I had never found it to be all that nice myself but my desert neighbors seemed to be impressed.

Then, one fateful day last summer, I looked in the mirror. Like, really looked in the mirror.

And gasped in shock.

Those crow’s feet I had read about in “old lady” magazines? I had them. Laugh lines? Check. The deep creases in my forehead, courtesy of my father’s genetics? Were now permanent lines on my face, even when I wasn’t scrunching my face up.

I immediately called my mother for a wrinkle cream recommendation.

“Katie, you’re too young for that. You can’t possibly have wrinkles that bad,” she said, trying to reassure me.

But she was two states away. She could not see my face. She had no idea what I was dealing with.

“Yes, Mother. I agree I am too young for this. That is why I am having a mild meltdown about it. But trust me, I have them.”

Here we are, nearly one year later, with only more wrinkles.

On one of my recent Texas trips, I made my mother actually look at my face. Because she kept insisting it was not possible for me to have all the wrinkles I claimed when I brought it up.

I invited her in for a closer look at my adult face, since she clearly only remembered the soft, childish skin I left the swamp possessing.

And you want to know what she said after staring at my crow’s feet for a solid 47 seconds?


That’s it. But I’m pretty sure it spoke volumes.


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