Ya know what really grinds my beans? Anti-aging this. Anti-aging that. A tsunami of products that promise eternal youth, sex, and a new Mercedes. The 300 billion dollar pseudoscience beauty business. Firm & lift.Tighten & tone. Rejuvenate & reactivate. Don’t talk to me about free radicals that steal my collagen. Free radicals are protesters just out of jail! You even have complexion analysis machines to give me a skin score on my dubious derma. Or to tell me how poor my pore quality is. I have Grand Canyon pores. Take a hike and take your hope in a jar with you. Gobbledygook. I’m not buying it. You’re either aging or you’re dead. So don’t make me feel bad for staying alive.
And even if I can no longer reproduce, I can produce. This girl is not standing still and stagnating. She’s embracing life and her age. Piano lessons, writing classes, exercise, a blog are only a few things that gobble up my day like the Pac-Man video game from the eighties. No such thing as too late or too old to pursue dreams. And they are not to be replaced by regrets. Don’t tell me you can turn back the clock. Just help me
Everybody has some degree of vanity and you prey upon it. Mine is more like the bathroom variety. I’m proud of its tile top appearance, abilities to store stuff and achievements of storing more stuff. The floral drawer pulls are also exceptional. You’re so vain. You probably think this blog is about you. Don’t you?
My middle age now shows around my middle. I guess that Spanx stuff is supposed to push it up to your chest, down to your feet or into your head. Good God almighty. How am I supposed to get all this in there? Having a marshmallow middle isn’t so bad. At least you can breathe.
Jowls. The meat of the cheeks. Does that only apply to hogs? I’ve had them for a long time. They run in the family. Makes it easy to recognize relatives…that you’ve never met or didn’t know you had. Is liposuction the treatment? Or fat grafting? Is that where they reduce your bum to stuff your slacker cheeks? Voluptuous volume. Look out chipmunks.
Wrinkles, wobbles, and white hair. That’s me. Don’t try to lure me into your spider web of products with promises to transform me into a hot babe. I’m hot enough. I live in Phoenix.