Tattoo Removal and Dozens of Pills...

I'm still a baby.  People tell me this all the time. And I am aware I still have a lot of mistakes to make, that I am in the prime of my life.  And I usually behave like a 15 year old boy, so that tends to lend to the illusion that I am a few years younger than I actually am.  Still, none of this changes the fact that I'm now faced with decisions on the inevitability of aging. (Not to mention that nothing makes a woman feel older than a trip to the doctor or the salon. I've made both of those trips this week, and it's only Tuesday.)
I could go on about the perils of being a woman beginning to show signs of time in a youth obsessed society, but I've officially decided that I am not a feminist. --Put your armpit hair and hate mail away, riot grrls. I've been there done that and experienced enough to be OK with being objectified.--
Anyway, so far my approach to aging is the same as my approach to most things, "Well fuck it, I'll do the best I can and see what happens".
It has been in the last year or so that I've noticed changes, not quite like a new puberty, more like what happens between the ages of 16 and 18. Like your still getting zits, but big changes are happening gradually enough to see them coming.
It started with my eyes, not with crows feet like most people, but tiny crevices and small, seemingly permanent pillows underneath-like my father. It's subtle but it's there. All I can do is just sit and wait for the day when the full on bags slide down to what will be full on jowls-thanks Mom.
But for now I hold to a couple of things I've always been known for--boobs and sex hair. Neither of them seem to be going anywhere.  Turns out there is a reason I was dubbed "Perky The Wonder Boob" in my younger days. Although I did start going grey about three months before my wedding (am I the only one?).  It seems to have slowed, but it's definitely not stopping. My crazy mop of thick dark hair will be a crazy old lady at the end of the street wild shock of silver. And I embrace that; I've decided to go Emmy Lou Harris with this one. No covering, no dye, no short cut, curl and set. Although no one would ever accuse me of being that wispy and delicate so it will probably be more like Dorothy Palanza.  Apologies in advance.
There is no "work" to be done here-no going under the knife. I've earned every line and spot and stain and sag.  Though I do plan to continue with some tattoo removal and general maintenance, so those battle scars don't turn into battle blobs.  This is what has happened to my rock and roll lifestyle. Regenerist, removal, and the art of aging dangerously.