Thursday, December 9, 2010

Stop This Train

I'll be 25 in about eight days, and I've begun to think about how I'm getting older and how at 25 you're supposed to be "grown up" and living the adult life. I won't lie when I say that I've had my fair share of early quarterlife crises, where I've sat here and been like "oh my god I'm going to be 25 in X amount of months and I have absolutely nothing to show for it." And to me, in the traditional sense, I feel as though I don't. I'm a freshman in college, I still live at seems silly, but it bothers me that I've never lived on my own.

The Great Recession, however, has leveled the quarterlife playing field. College degrees don't automatically signify a sweet high-paying job and a guaranteed spot on the awesome rung of the adult ladder. A lot of twentysomethings have moved back in with Mom and Dad because they can't find a job and the costs of living on their own are too high. I'm no longer the uncool single mom who is struggling to financially get through college and still lives at home. A lot of my friends have moved back home, right back into their bedrooms from their childhood.

So now I'm worrying about the other prong of the quarterlife crisis: I'm getting old. Scoff if you must, but high school still only seems like yesterday, albeit yesterday through a dirty glass. It seems weird for me to worry about dull skin and wrinkles and an entire skin routine. I've always been a low maintenance kind of girl when it comes to beauty routines. I don't have the time or the energy to worry about three steps to clearer skin or whatever. But now, now I have to be a little more structured with my skin or I'll pay for it down the road. Suddenly I'm worrying about those bad sunburns I got as a kid and my two separate but brief stints in the tanning bed. Suddenly I'm reading the descriptions on my face stuff and looking for alpha hydroxy acids and antioxidants. It's a bit daunting, but I figure it'll be worth it ten or fifteen years down the road.

I looked in the mirror a few weeks ago and I noticed that I had lines under my eyes. They weren't overly pronounced or anything, but they were enough to make me regret all those years of not wearing my glasses and squinting to see. I was kind of like a Latin American revolutionary when it came to wearing those stupid glasses. I'd rather die than wear those nerdy plastic welfare kid glasses, so I stayed vain and cool and popular and squinted my way through my childhood. I've since then bought eye cream, and I try to remember to apply it religiously twice a day. I tend to forget, but I figure if I do it enough it'll become a routine habit.

No gray hairs yet, thank sweet baby Jesus. I'm going to cross my fingers and hope I get a few more years out of that.

More on getting old tomorrow when I wake up. It's like 1:41 am and I have to go to sleep 'cause I have work at noon. XO.
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