Turning 29

You know what's worse before turning 30? Turning 29. Yes, I am so depressed that I am giving out my age in public, not that I have been able to hide it anyways. I never get that, "So which college do you study in?" question any more.

At 29 here I am, without my husband, (no we're not divorced yet, just living in different countries) feeling old and wrinkled.

Yes, I am a grouchy, 29 year old woman. Finally, I call myself a woman. Oh, how I loved being called a girl. Girl!

The morning of the 30th of May (yes D-day, my birthday, belated presents are most welcome), I look into the mirror and I'm sure I see extra lines around my eyes. My feet feel scaly and my hands a little wrinkly, and I definitely spotted a bald patch on my head.

With my husband not with me, I had no one to whine about the appearance of mysterious fine lines and the bright ripe pimple that popped up overnight. Those lines were probably there when I turned 28 but of course I didn't notice then. At 28 you still feel young, it's like you're not there yet, there's plenty of time until 30.

So now was the time for some damage control and to get some smooth glowing skin. Hmm, yes, smooth glowing skin doesn't happen to wait around the corner and jump at you. So I went to The Body Shop, no not to get a new body, which would've been a lot easier actually.

At The Body Shop, I looked around a bit and my head was swirling with the kind of products they had. Anti-ageing, bust firming, body scrubs made of exotic fruits, repairing creams, sensual massage oils, foot softening packs, all with the promise of making you more beautiful; notice how they always say "more beautiful", makes you believe that you are already beautiful and just need that little extra to make you look smashing hot gorgeous.

So I ask the shopping assistant what would suit me best, she started with my face.
"You can probably use the Tea tree cleanser followed with the toner. Do you use a moisturiser?"
At this point I am wondering whether I should tell her the truth at the risk of coming out, "Why the hell do you need a moisturiser" or just lie and say "Yes".
"Yes"
"Are you happy with it?"
"Yes"
"Then you can use the cleanser and toner followed by your moisturiser. I'd recommend the night cream as well for you. It will take care of the redness and blemish problem."
"Err, you think a night cream is good for my skin."
"Definitely. I sometimes don't bother with my Day Cream but I make sure I put on my Night Cream before bed."

At this point I was probably hyper-ventilating, wondering if my skin was ever going to get that smooth texture and cherubic glow. You know, they should teach you that in school; "When you turn 15 make sure you use a day cream and night cream. This will guarantee you wrinkle free exquisite skin when you turn 29."

Oh well, I had to start somewhere and soon. If I at least started at 29 some parts of my skin would hopefully be glowing when I turned 50.

So this is what I put into my basket:
A body lotion: for smooth and silky skin.
A foot scrub and a lotion: to keep my feet refreshed and revived and apparently deodorised.
A shampoo and a conditioner: which moisturises and conditions the hair, giving it shine.
A cleanser and a toner: which soothes blemished skin and reduces puffiness.
A day cream and a night cream: which also does the above but works some other magic during their respective times of application.
A face mask: which also soothes the skin in addition to cleansing it and removing impurities.

Convinced that I was on the way to younger looking skin I stepped out, leaving a very happy shopping assistant behind.

The products have now been lined neatly in my bathroom, creating a mini body shop exhibit and I just don't know where to start. I should have brought the shopping assistant home with me (in a purely non-sexual way), she definitely seemed to know a lot.

Oh what the hell, let me just take the plunge into making myself "more beautiful". Lovely skin, here I come in 3, 2, 1.