I am a working mother of three young children. So, actually technically definitely an adult. I am no longer ticking the 18-24 box in surveys and I mostly sit in on Friday nights and drink red wine.
Just lately I have been looking at my face. Like really looking at it. We are the Instagram generation, we filter photographs or we pose them. Social media teaches us to gloss over the cracks - to show ourselves at our best.
Or we do that weird pout face where everything is just so right. And totally weird as well.
That's not for me.
I have these lines emerging on my face. They are small cracks around my eyes. My cheeks have a concertina of furrows, deep and just, well... there. Advertising scares me. Do I need anti-wrinkle cream? I need to keep my face straight. If I take a photo do I have to keep my face immaculately still like the photos above? Do I have to trowel on the make-up and make my face look like a different face?
If I take a photo that is less than perfect then should I hide it and pretend it never existed? What are we afraid of? We can't turn back the time, things are as they are. The alternative to getting old is pretty bleak, so let's just embrace it.
These are all photos of my mid-30s face. I'm not obsessed by myself. Or my face. I took some naked ones in the bath inspired by Kate from The Naked Mum. I tried to pixelate the whole areola area and failed and then decided not to use them online. ( I know, I know... I can hear you booing... )
My mid-30s body is not pert. It's not toned, or tanned. It's not slim or youthful. It's not even fit (in the whole boring sweaty-gym sense of the word.) But it's bloody fantastic. When you look down at your body you see something different. It looks hunched and sloped. Droopy and wobbly. Look at it through a lens, through another pair of eyes - you'll see a different view, a different angle. It's a revelation.
And still, the cracks are very much there. I am a mid-thirties woman. I am happy with my face and my own ageing. You know what makes me happy? Those lines you see, those cracks, those imperfections that everyone is so desperate to get rid of... they tell me that I have lived. They tell me that I have laughed harder than you can imagine. They are proof of how full my life is, and actually, how happy I am, and they can stay.
So, mid thirties - come and get me.