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elanamatic: The signs are all there.
Straining my neck, checking for lunchtime leftovers between my teeth in the bathroom at work. The lighting is flattering from far back but when I lean in close I see fine laugh lines crinkling around my eyes. I never noticed these in the mirror at home.

I bare my teeth. All clear.

Playing around with my hair, I attempt some kinda updo. Nope, it's not going to work today. Then I notice that one white hair, out in front, winking at me from my part.

I feel like I am only 17, only I'm not. I have been working full-time for seven years and married for nearly two. It's starting to show. The word poop still makes me laugh though.

I am more comfortable with myself than I have ever been. Healthier too. I hope I grow old gracefully, although, at heart I am a tough and would love to fight it every step of the way, but botox is icky.

I am so vain. I bet this journal is about me, baby.


comments[1]  |   4/14/2005  |  perma-link

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elanamatic
Previous Posts
› Who's The Boss
› Blowing on the shadow of my mind
› 15 months
› work/life + balance = myth
› 14 months, yikes.
› I have a one year old.

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