Aging.

I happened to catch a few minutes of the Rachel Ray show this morning while Judah was napping. A certain celebrity who shall remain nameless was a guest, and she was talking about how she tries to stay healthy.

I wasn't really paying attention to what she said, though, about her recommended supplements or diet advice. All I could think about was exactly how much plastic surgery she must have had. Almost everything about her face looked fake. Her nose, her cheeks, her lips, her eyes. Everything was too full, too tight, or too smooth. A little too perfect.

It made me a little sad for her, actually. Not that I think people shouldn't try to look nice, or even that I'm opposed to all cosmetic surgery. I guess I have just come to realize that some scars are worth having. Some wrinkles are hard-earned.

The thin, pink line on my belly? I wouldn't trade it for anything. The stretch marks I got during my pregnancy? I'll call them much more than a fair trade for what I got in return. Each line that appears on my face is just a marker for how far God has brought me.

I do not want to go backward.