I recently found an 8x10 photo from my days as a majorette at Nitro Junior High School. I scanned it and posted it as my profile pic on Facebook.
I don't spend much time worrying about aging. I've been using quality moisturizers since I was 21, and will continue to do so, I have good genes (my grandmother's skin is softer than mine) and I quit going to the tanning bed years ago.
But when I did the math on how many years it had been since the picture was taken, I let my curiosity take me down a fun road: I wanted to see how much older I really looked.
So, I cropped the majorette picture and juxtaposed it with a mug shot taken of me late this summer.
You can clearly see some aging on the image to the right (above). I wouldn't go so far as to call it a wiser countenance, but definitely one that reveals experience, hardship and certainly plenty of adventure.
I seem to have more freckles today, and I stopped using Sun-In years ago so that the hair color you see today is all natural. And I definitely don't look 14 anymore.
But I don't look 50 either.
The picture was shot 22 years ago. When I consider that, I'm pretty pleased with how the ruggedness of life has treated me. I certainly could have aged much more rapidly these last years.
Of course, because by now speaking of the topic I will have jinxed it, the picture that will be taken of me 22 years from now will undoubtedly reveal a horrid old lady.
I hope you'll still be reading to find out.