wrinkles.

It is now, at the beginning of age 30, that I have come to be acutely aware of the three deep lines that erode my forehead. Certainly they did not recently appear; perhaps it is more noticeable as I have an actual tan that accentuates them, but they are no longer fleeting.

These crevices across my epidermis are not just a sign of sun damage or advanced age. They began early as my eyebrows spent many hours in an erect arch to provide for the appropriate singing position. In fact, I often refer to them when talking about lifting the mask in singing, “See”, I say to my young students, “you too can have forehead wrinkles if only you sing your best!” They usually laugh and sometimes make reference to their grandma, mom, or…heavens to Betsy, Botox.

I am not downtrodden about the advanced appearance of my lines–rather intrigued at the exacerbation of their growth. Is it the stress of the last year in my life that is to blame? Perhaps, for when one spends an exorbitant amount of time in the throes of exhaustive crying the face does tend to wrinkle. It is not so much from singing anymore; that really only happens sparsely, particularly in the summer when I’m away from school. Maybe it is just God’s way of reminding me to apply spf 30 before leaving the house and to drink more water?

Whatever the source, the mini canyons that streak upon my upper face are now just another part of the superficial me. Hopefully as I meet people at work or church or in running they will see beyond the lines and consider their source, for that is the true definition of me.

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