This country is full of women who spend thousands of dollars every year to make sure they look as young as they can.  How many celebrities can you name that have had some kind of a lift here and there to make sure that gravity doesn’t take over?  Or at least they try to slow it down some.  And once they start the process, they just can’t go back to what they used to look like.  I recently saw a couple of pictures of a female celebrity that looked more like a porcelain doll because of the tightness in her cheeks.  If it wasn’t for her “main squeeze” standing next to her (who has aged, but still looks like him), I would never have guessed that this woman was who they said it was.  It just didn’t look like her.  I know women who color their hair, put tons of goop on their face (both day and night), and try to hide their age.  I do not color my hair, don’t wear goop, and have never lied to anyone about my age.  In fact, over the weekend, I was told that I did not look like someone old enough to have an almost 23-year-old son.  (I do.)  But why?  Am I embarrassed about my age?  Nope.  Never have been.  It is a number and just tells everyone how many miles I have traveled and those miles have made me who I am.  The trek I have taken has evolved into a story — my story — and even if the story is not the best, it is one that I have never been ashamed about.  Some people have tried to understand my story, but it is something that no one can truly comprehend.  You know how the old quote goes — “Don’t judge someone until you have walked a mile in their shoes.”   What road have you travelled to get where you are?  Bet you never thought you would be were you are right now.  Maybe you always thought you would be where you are, but didn’t think it would look like it does.  When it all comes down to it, the miles make the woman.  Somehow, we pick up little pieces from the people we have met, the experiences that changed us, and the places we have been and every single speck of dust that we collect becomes the sum of who we are now.  Tomorrow, it will be different.  And every day after that too.  Are you someone who hides behind makeup, Clairol dye, or weekly shots to enhance “whatever” you think needs enhancing? Are there things I wish I could change?  Sure, there are.  I have two scars on my face that no one hardly ever sees, but they tell a story from when I was 4 years old (a dog got to me).  Do I have “crows feet” at the corner of my eyes?  You bet.  And I won’t even tell you how many stretch marks I have after carrying three babies.  I have a toe on my left foot that must have been broken when I was little because it is still bent.  (That story I don’t know.)  We all have imperfections…seen and not seen…that make us who we are.  We are imperfect and unique in every way and yet we try to change to be something that we aren’t.  Growing up, I wasn’t a girly girl.  I was the tom-boy and even though I did not realize then how many miles it would take me to get here, I am so glad I took the long way.  By the way, I am 45 years old, love who I am, and grateful for every step I took to get here.  And,  “Man! I feel like a woman!” by Shania Twain

Michelle A. Homme 2014 ©