I’m constantly meeting new people. That’s what happens when you move to a new city. You meet new people. Trey and I have several friends “our own age” that we spend time with here. Except “our own age” means 23. What? Either I’m a horrible age guesser or I have no idea how old I actually am.
My friend Kelli said it best:
“I feel like I’m stuck in a time warp where everyone else ages and I stay the same.”
I’ve always looked younger than I am. When I was 21 I was still getting carded to go to rated R movies without an adult. Now that I’m 30, I still get carded for beer…but only when I’m not wearing makeup. Don’t get me wrong, I love looking like a kid. I know I’ll love it even more when I’m 60. Part of it is because I have (in the words of my super-young-looking Mom) young genes. Part of it is because I started a pretty involved skin care regimen when I was 9.
Why? Because for a brief shining moment in time, I was a child model.
Are you done laughing yet? Let me explain. When dance lessons and piano lessons and gymnastic lessons got old, I asked mom if I could take modeling lessons. As a step toward acting I guess. I learned how to walk a runway. I learned how to deliver lines in front of a camera. And I learned how to take really good care of my skin. This is probably the reason I started using anti-wrinkle cream at the ripe old age of 23. Which is how old my new friends are.