Well Oscar, my soul must be taking my body along with it because I was definitely born with an old soul and my body seems to be getting younger... or at least my face is. I can't seem to handle liquor the way I used to but I still get carded at the movies.
Last week I was hit with a freakish desire to shop. I'm not really a shopper and I can't really justify the purchase of new clothes when I have a closet-full of perfectly wearable items. However, the events last night lead me to believe deep down I wanted a makeover—an I-want-to-look-my-age makeover.
I spent the entire day on base yesterday. I decided to get a good workout in the morning before my Red Cross meeting which was followed by a doctor's appointment and then capped by a photography class in the evening. I decided to dress comfortably and in clothes that could keep me warm in the now zero degree weather. At 3pm, I had a few hours to kill before my class and decided to spend that time doing homework, checking email, and perhaps finally borrowing Harry Potter from the library to read.
So picture it... no makeup, hair up in a bun, big hooded sweatshirt and some stretched out jeans, a backpack hiked up to my ears full of textbooks, some awesome cystic acne on my forehead (thank you hard water), a bag of Clearasil product in one hand, and a copy of Harry Potter in the other at 3pm in the afternoon.
I happen to be at the library along with 20 other hoody-wearing, acne-prone, baggy-jeans-wearing, loitering teenagers who just got out of high school. When I give the librarian my ID card she gives it a double look, analyses it a few moments and hands it back with a big, "HMM".
"What?" I ask.
"Well, you just don't look that old".
In my head: "How the
So I guess it's time. I need a makeover. I need to look my age. How do I do that? Perhaps a drastic hair cut tomorrow will help (my last drastic haircut left me looking like a J-Pop rockstar though, so I'm scared. My mother even supervised the haircut, perm, AND color (purple) and she never bothered to stop me and say, "Hey.... you look ridiculous".)
Maybe digging up some sheeker looking digs and wearing them instead of waiting for a special occasion (like warm weather) will help. I don't know if I actually care how old I look—after all, being carded isn't a big deal and age is a matter of spirit more than biology to me. But now that 30 is rearing it's big ugly head around the corner, perhaps I should take advantage of being only 28 by actually looking 28. So, a big thank you to the librarian and the dozen or so teenagers who probably thought I was a classmate. I am reminded of my commandment to make the most of every moment... and if that means making the most of my twenties by looking like I'm in my twenties to avoid those second-glances and awkward stares then by Buddha, I'll try.