Payback

I spent about twenty minutes in front of the mirror today, tugging at my face. It was so depressing. Wrinkles, pores, lines, sags.

One of the things I used to love doing to shamelessly fish for compliments in my early twenties (yes, it seems like ages ago) was ask people how old they thought I was. They'd usually say 19 or 20, and I'd squeal in delight "NO! You're SO wrong! I'm ACTUALLY 24!" And they'd be like "Oh my God, NOT POSSIBLE!" And I'd be like "Oh my God, YES!"

So my time and disappointment in front of the mirror today has got to be some kind of karmic payback for the gluttony of attention years ago. I believe it.

I get so wrapped up in this. I scrutinize and dissect everything wrong with the way I look - hell, girls all do this to each other. And I realize that all we are is a bunch of furniture frames walking around draped with different varieties of slipcovers and it makes me feel like the worrying is really fucking pointless.