Last month I celebrated my 31st birthday. I had a terrific week of celebration and not a little indulgence, my favourite birthday pastime. However, the week before my birthday, classic freak-out time, I started to get the feeling that time and aging were creeping up on me. Clicking over the decade into my 30s-proper got me wondering and worried.
I have no desire to look young forever. I have no problem admitting my age. I have no intention of pounding pavements and drinking endless green smoothies to fight back the years and preserve my body at some yet-to-be-determined premium age of youthful yet mature perfection.
What I want to do is take care of myself so that while I may look my age, my wrinkles are from smiling, not skin damage. Though looking on average 5 years younger wouldn’t be a bad thing either. Continue reading