My bedtime is 9:30. You gotta problem with that?

I may be 29, but I have the soul of a 90 year old grandmother.

A recently acquired penchant for arts and crafts, melba toast and phrases such as "I have a penchant for" have only confirmed this deep-seated side of my psyche.  I love nothing better than a night at home watching television with my sweetie.  Wearing sensible shoes.  Freaking out over the health of my tomato plants as if they were my children.  Heaven.

However, the other day I looked in the mirror and realized for the first time, that I no longer look like like I did when I was 24.  Not bad, not wrong, just... older.  I look like I'm pushing thirty, which I am.  So why is this weird?  And when it's so inevitable, and even somewhat welcome, why is it so unexpected?

I'm sure some of it has to do with the fact I'm getting married in six weeks, and my fiance and I have spent a large amount of money on a professional photographer.  I'll admit, I'm a little paranoid that I'm going to end up looking like the elephant man in the pictures.  No real reason, just fears that for some reason, although I'm sure I'll look fine on the day in person, the pictures will end up looking like Jabba the Hut in a cute little tea length lace dress.  (Though I have much nicer legs than Jabba.)  Totally irrational, I know.  I'm sure the pictures will look like me, I'm just not sure that I have a realistic picture of what I look like right now, and I guess I'm afraid of what I'll see when we open up those pictures a couple of months from now.

But, I'm not afraid of getting older.  I only like myself more the older I get.  I'm prouder of myself, and more confident in my choices.  I like who I am, if maybe I would like myself more 30 pounds lighter, but I like who I am.  And if I like who I am than that will shine through in the pictures, and I need to not stress over it.  There.  Decision made.  Well, that was easy enough....