Reunions can be a frightful thing. I remember the nerves I had before mine in anticipation of all that judgment.
The final report card. This would almost determine whether I’d made something of my life. Are the hot people still hot? Are any of the nerds frightfully successful? Are the sweethearts still besotted? I felt like getting a t-shirt made up to save the record-jarring spiel:
“Catherine. Work in PR, have my own agency, a baby son, still with (the ex), we live near the city, don’t really keep in touch with anyone.”
But instead I wore a knock off Chloe dress from eBay and decided to travel with a lovely acquaintance who lives nearby and works in the city. We rode in the car, the wind billowing all that conversation in the hour it took us to get out west. Upon arrival we were welcomed as “the city girls”. Great.
Although I’ve quietly revelled in the salt and pepper slowly shading the locks of my friends, while styling my hair recently, I found a stray grey.
What to do?
There was no one around and I was quite entertained so I showed the stray to Wolf, who instantly shed a tear and refuted the fact that I was getting old. Although I was surprised, I guess getting old equates to dying and that is not allowed.
I’ve noticed something else too recently… fine lines around my eyes. Oh, and there’s a line appearing inbetween my eyebrows, I guess from frowning too much.
My brother and sister mocked my concerns but my mother took a different tact and suggested some “preventative botox” – perhaps the European gene would call shotgun on this whole aging business (awesome) and I should look into ways I can avoid wrinkles even forming.
So inspired by fear, I did a bit of research, spoke to a couple of beauty journos I know (who agreed my concerns were unnecessary) and although I don’t like the idea of injecting poison into my body at this age, I came across something quite alarming – a trend for people to get plastic surgery to enhance their career.
There are times when an escape is the most indulgent and satisfying thing you can do. Sure, you realise the curve balls you’ve dodged might be there upon your return – there may even be new ones – but for now you have permission to abandon it all and just breathe.
So I recently escaped to embark on a European adventure. On my own. And even though I missed Wolf quite spectacularly, I can’t express how wonderful it was to steal all of that time.
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