Let’s talk about twnety six for a minute. I’m twenty six. Twenty six years old. I don’t think in the 4+ months that I have been twenty six I’ve actually had to say it outloud. Once someone asked me my age and I said “twenty five” out of habit and then when I went to correct myself, the person was gone already and so not caring about how old I am.

“I’M TWENTY SIX, SIR. NOT TWENTY FIVE. I’m also talking to myself. Awesome. Thanks. Bye.”

(You’re never too old to talk to yourself.)

Many of my friends I’ve had since elementary/middle school and, as a December 24th kid, I’ve always been the “baby” of the group. I remember last year sometime we were all sitting around chatting about important things like shoes, and kitchen tables, and really great laundry baskets and someone mentioned how twenty six was the year the wrinkles come.

One by one all those old 26 year olds chimed in “YOU ARE RIGHT! I SAW A WRINKLE!”

Well, guess what? After yesterday’s entry I can see WHY twenty six is the year wrinkles come.

Let’s be honest. Twenty six, you’re kind of a bitch. I mean sometimes you can be really awesome, but there are other times when I really just want to strangle you with speaker wire.

Yesterday was one of those days. This morning, when I woke up grumpier than all hell, is one of those days.

But yesterday, I actually got off my computer, left my office and found myself wandering around the aisles of CVS for nothing in particular except maybe some sanity and a side of de-grumpifier.

Twenty minutes later I left with a plastic bag filled with the following:

Pomegranate/Apple lip gloss (becuase I need more), Coconut/Citrus body cream (because, again, I need more), Aveno Sunblock 45 SPF, and MY VERY FIRST ANTI-AGING WRINKLE CREAM.

This is a huge step. I may be the girl with a passion for fashion, a closet full of handbags and shoes, an addiction to pedicures, but I’m also the girl who washes her face with BAR SOAP (don’t hit me) and considers remembering to slop whatever Bath and Body smell-ums I’m putting on my legs on my face “facial moisturizing” (seriously though? Don’t hit me.)

So last night, I washed my face with some actual real face wash designed, get this, specifically for THE FACE, and then applied my new Garnier Nutritioniste Ultra-Lift Anti-Wrinkle Firming Moisture Cream.

I felt that the Garnier line was kind of like the training bras of old lady creams. Plus, it came in a super cute lime green pump.

So I used the stuff last night and again this morning, and guess what? IT WORKS.

No really! Who knew using washes and lotions designed specifically for your face would actually, I don’t know, WORK? My face is noticeably softer and brighter. And happier. ALREADY.

Hopefully starting treating them before I actually see a wrinkle will help me. And I guess it doesn’t hurt to have a Scicilian mother who (at an age which I will not revel) doesn’t have a single wrinkle. You kind of hate her don’t you? I will hate her if I miss out on those genes. But either way, now I’m armed with my cute little green pump.

Almost takes the grump out of my day.

Now if CVS only sold apartments we’d be all set.