The time is running out on my youth.
That was the thought this morning as I slathered my face in a beta carotene-Vitamin C serum, followed by a moisturizer that promises elasticity and glow.
Whatever "glow" is.
It's no coincidence that I am grappling with my age. In two weeks, I turn 35. An age that sounds more like pearls and pinot grigio than it does tequila body shots and platform dancing.
Sometimes I miss those days - the wild ones. The ones that end with forgotten nights and remembered mistakes. But honestly, as I grow older, I am more consumed with the human experience - my human experience - and am desperate to soak up any true connection I can forge.
I've started re-watching Sex And The City. Carrie Bradshaw, the first famous blogger, and the rest of her motley crew of wanton mamas, and the hard fought crusade through their 30s.
Fiction or not, the series has become a sort of bible for single 20 and 30-something women.
In one recently watched episode, she remarks to Mr. Big that she is sick of the merry-go-round, and instead just wants to enjoy the stillness, and that she hopes he wants to enjoy the stillness with her.
That sounds really nice.
The frothy dreams of my mind imagine that stillness includes deep conversation, warm embraces, trust and hope. The stillness is the reward for fighting through all those years of vacuous relationships, unfulfilled endings, and a disappointing lack of honesty.
It sounds so much nicer than disco lights, cheap beer and throwaway come-on lines.
Kate's Random Musings by Kate the Great is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.