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Thursday, January 13, 2011


Twelve is my token number. The one I use to describe anything (larger than two or three when it needs to be or smaller than twenty or thirty depending on the situation). Get the picture? For example, if you have more than four kids, you probably have twelve. Or if I want to put into words exactly how young I was when Ryan and I got married....we were twelve. Obviously. So when my mom suggested this week that I look into becoming a real estate agent, my response was that nobody was going to hire me because I look like I'm twelve. To this, her response was, "I've got news for you, but you REALLY can't pass for "twelve" anymore." Sounds logical (after all, I am twenty years past my twelfth birthday and I've birthed three children), unless you know me and know my mom and know that my mom knows that twelve is just a way of me saying that I look young. So, what she was really getting at was that I look old. And it hit me like a ton of bricks....it's like she opened my eyes and I've seen it ever since. I'm OOOOOLLLLLLLDDDD!! I have wrinkles that I never knew existed and thin, saggy skin on my face. I am flat out, clear as day aging and I never knew it. I am bound and determined to invest in every skin care regimen out there and re-twelve-ify myself!!