Here I am in my 29th year. Approaching 30.
Truthfully I have no problem with turning 30. Many of my friends have treated turning 30 as the kiss of death, but I don't feel that way. To me, age is just a number (as evidenced by my affinity for older men).
However, what I do have a problem with are visible signs of aging. Pretty soon, I am going to resemble this chick...
I recently started noticing hyperpigmentation under my eyes that I immediately treated with an onslaught of various corrective creams. Thankfully I have actually seen some results (Clinique Dark Spot Corrector really does work).
Yesterday morning, I noticed something horrifying.
STRETCH MARKS ON MY INNER THIGHS.
I about died in the bathroom upon seeing those hideous purple marks. This is exactly what I need...a visual reminder to whoever ventures down into that area that I am no sixteen year old virgin. My vagina cries in sympathy.
My first act was to slather the areas with moisturizer to hinder any further marks and ran right out to get another shopping cart full of magic creams to fix this particular issue.
Why must my skin betray me? Thank god I have yet to spy any wrinkles.
It sucks getting old.