I am over 50. I am slavishly attached to two threefive specific beauty tools. In no particular order, they are: tweezers, eyelash curler, tweezers, flat iron and tweezers. As far as actual skin care and makeup products go, as long as it says anti-aging, wrinkle reducing, anything that has the words lift or firm, I am in. I also give a chance to any product advertised in More magazine. I have had Botox® injected into my forehead twice, but that was three years ago, and frankly, the results don’t seem to be lasting.
My hands have some spots, I have crow’s feet/legs/tail, and my skin overall is a little stretched.
But I have a great neck.
I read a lot, watch a variety of news programs, and I am oddly addicted to The Middle. I have found myself drawn to looking at women’s necks. My non-scientific study has found that necks are the window to genetics. You would be amazed how many dandy writers add neck descriptions to their older female character development. On television, the image consultants and makeup artists wrap national correspondents’ necks up in scarves, turtlenecks and buttoned up shirts. Not so much in local news, but that is mostly a function of them being booted off the air after age 40 or earlier.
A well used neck adds a certain amount of gravitas to a woman who is supposed to have gravitas, like Barbara Bush or Barbara Walters. (Funny, I came up with about four more Barbaras to list, but it was going to be a long sentence.) But for those of us just scampering out to our Giant Eagle (or Piggly Wiggly for my southern sisters) a road map neck just doesn’t seem to carry any weight.
Not to gloat, but I have a really nice neck. A week or so ago, someone accidentally left a jar of L’Oreal Revitalift neck cream in a Toys for Tots donation bag at a drop off center I staff. Having no way to find its rightful owner, and imagining the joy on little Johnny’s face when Santa brought him the gift of firm jowls, I felt it was a sign from God that for once in my life, I was supposed to pay some attention to my neck.
I took it home, and slathered it on at bedtime according to package instructions. I woke the next morning, and lo and behold, my neck looked exactly the same. Which wasn’t too bad to start with.
The moral of the story is…ok. I don’t know what the moral is. It is just that with all the things not right about my body, our country and the world, I’m happy that, at least for today, my neck looks alright. We’ll see in five/ten years.
REINVENTION INTENTION: I will keep buying and using any and all makeup products which use models over the age of 40. And I will be happy with myself even if do need to start wearing a scarf in summer.
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