Gwen Jimmere is a freelance writer, as well as an award-winning filmmaker and editor who, after years of majoring in Poor Personal Relationship Choices at the world-renowned School of Hard Knocks, decided it was high time to put all those years of hands-on training to good use. Through her upcoming debut book release, If It Walks Like a Duck...and Other Truths My Mother Taught Me, and her blog, TheDuckWalk.com, she provides realistic girlfriend-to-girlfriend advice on personal accountability and intimate relationships. In her spare time (what is that?) she can be found playing with her three awesome nephews, sneaking a 1/2 pint of Chunky Monkey past her trainer, and of course, praying for world peace.
I am deathly afraid of aging.
It all started when I turned 25 and saw the first very faint, yet visible (at least to me), sign of a laugh line around the left corner of my mouth. I complained to my sister, who, of course, couldn't relate. At 42, she looks about 29. 32 at the most. She laughed it off, told me the lines were barely visible and proceeded to jokingly tell me to stop smiling so much.
I understand my dilemma may have sounded petty to some. Most of my friends didn't get it. Neither did my family or co-workers. But here's the thing: Not only does my sister look incredibly young, my mom looks about 15 years younger than she is. And my dad, who is close to 70 doesn't look a day over 52. Even the family dog looks like a puppy and she's almost 56 (in dog years)! It seems I'm the only one who looks my age...which believe me, isn't a bad thing. But I do hope I've inherited those "I'll-always-look-young-and-hot" genes that seem to kick in around age 30. And that laugh line wasn't providing much hope.
In my mind, there was no reason I should have started seeing fine lines at 25. The only stress in my life at the time was my really awful relationship with my then-fiance, and that couldn't have been the problem. At least not problematic enough to create lines in my face!
Immediately, I made an appointment with my dermatologist. She prescribed a non-chemical moisturizing regimen that would ideally force that little bugger to fill in and fade in about three months.
The game plan worked...kind of. The line was gone, but my complexion was still sallow and dull. Not cool. After growing weary of the roller coaster ride that was my relationship, I eventually got tired of trying to make things work with my fiance and through a series of overly dramatic occurrences, we split for good.
Of course I went through the customary breakup/withdrawal phase. But within weeks my complexion brightened. My adult acne disappeared altogether (thank God for that one!). My skin smoothed out. And nothing had changed other than ridding myself of the aforementioned daily stress. Who would've thought it was that easy? Or that hard, for that matter?
Since then, I've added drama-free relationships into my skin care regimen. That goes for men and colleagues, as well as family and associates. My skin has never been dewier, fresher...or younger. I've advised all my friends - male and female - to consider the same. Believe me, it works wonders.
Heck if I keep this up, I'll be on Jackie's level in no time!