folded, (or talking about makeup and ending up somewhere else)

As my 50th birthday approaches, I continue to refine, reduce and reassess. I've purged more makeup and I'm coming to terms with the truth that the darker lip colors I've always favored really don't work anymore. 

Same goes for powder blush. I'd never considered cream blush, (too messy), but the powdery stuff now cakes on my skin in tiny little pockets, highlighting what I'm certain are the beginnings of papery soft folds in my skin that collect little pockets of powder. 

So I found myself a creamy blush that I like and a new lipstick to add to the only other lippy I kept. I feel a bit ill looking at the pile of makeup I can't will no longer use as it represents money wasted, but in the bigger picture of less is more, I chalk it up to learning to really walk the walk, and passing the makeup along means it's not a total waste. 

I continue to streamline my clothing to fit my lifestyle here at the beach; making note of what makes me feel frumpy or too much like a suburban mom. I'm not fronting, I know and embrace my stay-at-home life, but there were a number of years I equated who I was with my age and what I thought that meant in terms of clothing, read: a sensible wardrobe. 

There's a bit of sadness when I realize how hard I was trying to buy into something that I wasn't. How I tried to become what I thought I should be by not honoring who I am, and I see now, that this extends far beyond my outward appearance. 

The layers are becoming less creased. The folds less sharp, its edges softer.