Today I caught sight of you for the first time creeping away from the sides of my eyes. I expected a different reaction — fear, panic, upset. After all, you represent my loss of value in society, my status as an aging woman.
I should want to stamp you out, buy a cream or three to smooth and fill you in. I should pay for expensive laser treatments and deep skin peels to scrape any evidence of you from my once smooth, youthful face.
Moisturize. Massage. Peel. Tighten. Fill. Inject. Smooth.
I should listen to the tailored Pinterest Ads, YouTube commercials, and sponsored Instagram posts that will fix you with these 3 steps, all sold separately. I should drink collagen smoothies, get botox, smile less, sleep on silk. I should do 100 things and more to stop the world from seeing you.
Despite all the helpful tips and tricks… I don’t want to do any of that. I don’t want to hide you away or fill you up. You don’t represent a woman lost: a woman without value on her way out of her prime.
You reflect every moment of joy and laughter that I’ve had the privilege to know. You reflect thousands of moments I never thought would come. You’re the years of my life that I never expected to live, let alone joyously experience!
You, my darling little wrinkles, represent a woman who allowed herself to be happy. You represent the years I spent fighting to free myself from the suffocating weight of everything I should do. You are an ever present reminder that I’m still here and I’m still laughing.
Many happy years from now, I’ll catch sight of you again. Crinkled around my eyes, creasing my forehead and indenting my cheeks. You’ll mark my face with all the love we’ve shared.
I’ll trace my fingers across my old wrinkled reflection and together, we’ll smile.
Tatum Savage 
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