As I brushed over my lashes this morning with a mascara wand, I saw–really saw–the creases at the corners of my eyes. It’s not vanity that stopped me and made me stare, but the darker sensation of seeing oneself a certain way and realizing that in fact, one has aged far past that image. Aging. It was a shock to see my skin giving up to anyone who cares to look the fact that I’m getting older and maybe not doing it so valiently. Suddenly I have memories of my mom slathering her face with creams and serums. I feel the pressure of having to make the decision: start stocking up on the lotions and remedies in earnest…or get used to a face that looks it’s age. I’ll think about it tomorrow.