The new face of Oil of Olay

How old did you think you would be when you turned 27?

I've turned 27 and I am still 22.

Turning 27 excited me. I don't fall in the category of early twenties and I can be considered mature even a woman now. But as I sit at work it wouldn't matter if I chose a different posture, copious amounts of foundation, darkened eyeliner, pearls draping from head to foot or the smell of red door Eau De toilette, to the outsider I am a young'n. I am asked politely of my weekend plans or how I am finding the job, their questioning is out of curiosity of a young'ns lifestyle. But their curiosity is flattened by a shock of surprise when my response is depends on what the husband feels like doing. Mouth agape, eyes wide and a questioned wrinkle of you are married? Then the usual spill of the tale of my marriage, the fact I'm 27 and their mistaken look of thinking I was fresh out of school, 19 and working my first full time job. God love em'.

I know when I'm older this will be in favour of me (unless my years catch up to me overnight) and I will continue to pretend it is all due to the benefits of Oil of Olay. Although actually Oil of Olay is still the choice of product of my mother and my mothers mother and was encouraged when I was a child, now as a 27 year old trapped in the face of a 22 year old my choice of product is not Oil of Olay *dermalogica I love you. I could say that my fine lines, smooth complexion, pink lips and rosy cheeks is due to my 2 litres of water a day, vitamin D, good moisturiser, healthy food and daily exercise. BUT THIS IS A LIE! I eat junk food more then my serve of veges and fruit, I forget to moisturise at night, I have a greater chance of going to bed with makeup on then off, I'm lucky to drink a glass of water a day (that includes the water in my coffee and tea) and I'm an indoor kind of gal or will have my head stuck in a book rather than accompanying my husband in the surf. It all comes down to my genetics. I love them, they gave me my long eyelashes, perseverance and the ability to maintain the child within.

While holidaying across Europe one of the 4 books I read was Anne of Green Gables. I'm a classics girl. I feel a warmth and contented feeling when I pick up a book that will forever be important in the world of literature. Now here was girl of full of imagination, warmth, curiosity, determination, pure and honest. Anne too had hope that one day she, the ugly duckling would turn into a beautiful swan of elegance and grace and freckle free. This bountiful and innocent child did turn into a recognisable and unique woman with auburn hair and full physique - so what happened to me. I had no transformation of beauty and grace, no golden luscious locks matured, I stopped growing in year 10 in all aspects of ones anatomical features and I didn't even deepen in my voice, lets just say Minnie mouse has a cousin.

So if my looks will not do my 27 year old self justice, is age determined by milestones that we have completed. Is there an average amount of milestones one must complete to be 27, or is it the type of milestones? As a young girl I imagined at 27 I would be a career woman, pregnant, house owner, dog owner, married,  fruitful with friends but out of that list I am only married. Tick! So where have I been for the last 5 years? I have completed university degrees, I have moved interstate twice, I have travelled Europe and I have gotten married. Does that make me 27. Perhaps to some these are major achievements. Is age determined by losses and gains, experiences, choices or the outcome of hurdles. Is it determined by how many we have jumped, hit, missed, completed? In 5 years I have gone through enough emotional growth that has seen me on a journey of understanding, forgiveness and hope for tomorrow. But this does not make me feel 27.

We hear constantly that our life is not about how much money we make, how big our house is, the type of job we have or how social our calendar looks but it is about how happy we are for where we are in life (for so many do not have our priviledges). So why do we compare? Why do we want what others have instead of being happy for what we do? Age? Fact or fiction. Should it even determine our life. It determines when we are legal to drive, it determines our entry into a night club, when we wed and when our biological clock starts ticking. So for some, you compare to others, for me I compare to the years I have on earth.

One of my favourite blogs is Girl with a Satchel  and she says;

If you cannot feel wholly yourself, untroubled by the bits of you that make you you, and confident that the snares that catch on your favourite jumper will eventually break away as you crawl out of the rabbit hole toward the light, then you might very well succumb to actions that you will some day live to regret (regrets? Yeah, I've got a few), or not live at all, whether in a physical or metaphorical sense. 

Best to get the foundations right. With those set in stone, trusting not in the fallible self but the infinite Christ, we are better able to address both ourselves and others in a life-building way. An uplifting comment. A helpful act. A smile that is genuine. We should all endeavour to leave others, and the world, in a better state than we found them, but it's hard to do if we are distracted by our own shortcomings, inadequacies, unfulfilled desires, mistakes.

Age is but a number. A wall, a time piece, a common ground. It may push you or it may hold you back but what ever it does don't let it stop you from being the original idea that came from above. 

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