I Have Wrinkles And It’s Your Fault
Alternate Title: A 23-Year-Old with Wrinkles, A Love Letter To My Laugh Lines
I turned 23 today and I have wrinkles. Unlike my four gray hairs, and the fact that I no longer live with my best friends, I am not mad at this particular sign of aging. I don’t have all the wrinkles just yet. I have shallow wrinkles to the left and right of my lips; nasolabial folds, otherwise known as smile lines.
Anyone who knows me can confirm that I wear my emotions on my face. And also that I have a huge mouth. So, when I am happy, I smile and I smile BIG. This birthday blog post is about the results of that big-ol smile. A thank you letter of sorts. I love knowing that I have smiled so many times in just 23 years that there’s now permanent proof on my face.
My little wrinkles are like wrapping paper and gift bags that I have carefully folded and stored away every time someone has gifted me a smile…
I have wrinkles because of all the times my mom left a note in my lunch box. I have wrinkles because my dad is the kind of dad who tracks down the icecream truck on his bike. I have wrinkles because of all the times I woke up to fresh squeezed orange juice and vanilla custard (in my favorite mug) at my grandma’s house. I have wrinkles because of nights spent uncontrollably laughing in bed with Ceci. I have wrinkles because I told Franz his truck made me feel like I didn’t need a man, so he gifted it to me (crazy, I know!). I have wrinkles because of every video I receive of Luca and Mon. I have wrinkles from watching Eze transform from an annoying little brother to a young man and because of every crackhead comment Nico has made in the last 18 years.
My wrinkles got a bit deeper every time Kendall woke me up at 6:00 am to go swim or run up a mountain. My wrinkles got deeper every time Tori made scones or cinnamon buns for breakfast and that one time I caught Chloe sliding across our hardwood floors in nothing but her underwear and fuzzy socks. My wrinkles deepened with every coffee run I made with MK and every playlist of Mary’s I listened to.
Every time Maya let me convince her to get in-n-out or boba (again): wrinkles. Every morning quietly spent at a coffee shop with Ruby: wrinkles. Every photoshoot Alec begrudgingly accepted: wrinkles. Every time Sarah came over for our weekly dinner date: more wrinkles.
I have wrinkles because Maggie convinced me to buy a $100 wavestorm from Costco, and then happily drove me to Santa Cruz more times than it should have taken for me to stand on that damn board. I have wrinkles because I watched Molly cut all her hair off at my kitchen table. I have wrinkles because Audrey showed me the sunset at Sierra Vista and Sarah went to church with me.
Boys have given me wrinkles. They’ve given me wrinkles between dances and dates, between camping, cooking, and kissing. I have wrinkles because Tyler gave me flowers and Sean wrote me letters. And Cade, I could dedicate a whole blog post to the wrinkles he is responsible for.
Teachers gave me these wrinkles. Grier, James, Sarah, Mr. Deritus, Prof. Pappas, Kim, Brian and Madame Plough all made me a wrinkly 23 year-old during their office hours and in their classrooms. Patty and Carroll made me especially wrinkly, one weekly meeting at a time.
I have wrinkles because Maria Fernanda took me to BeerCave and introduced me to Box 251. Yuris’ little red motorcycle, Aileen’s skincare routine, and Fran’s welcoming living room all caused my wrinkles. And Octavia and Andie’s adventures, those are for sure responsible for these laugh lines.
My wrinkles are thanks to the Orientation Leaders, my high school swim team, my insanely large flock of cousins, my clients, my acapella group, my dance teachers, and the list goes on and on.
So yes. I am 23 today. And I already have wrinkles. But for every thin line on my face, there are countless fat happy memories in my past. My wrinkles, at least the ones I have currently, are proof of a beautiful life. I am lucky to have them.