When you're twenty, you never think you'll be thirty. And when you're thirty, you think forty is just something people drink out of a paper bag. Then it hits you–like a flu. First, you feel a twinge, then your body starts to ache; and before you know it, you're struggling to stay up past six. Welcome to your forties... It's all downhill from here.
The other day I ran into a friend that I hadn't seen in a while. As always, she looked amazing with her super long legs and perfectly coiffed hair; so it came as a bit of a surprise when she complimented my aging, dull skin. "You look great!" she cooed; to which I retaliated with a cynical deflection, "That's just the florescent bulbs blinding you. Stay away from the light!" We laughed for a moment, until she realized I was serious. And that's when the gloves came off...
Me: "Well, at least YOU don't have a giant paper cut on your lip–LOOK at this shit!" I cried, pointing to a rather annoying and very pronounced imperfection.
Her: "I don't see anything? What about THIS!" she retorts, while waving her hands over her nose and mouth.
Me: "Everyone has that - It's called your FACE!" I laugh... And then she laughs and thanks me for the compliment.
We spend the next ten minutes or so comparing wrinkles and discussing the pros and cons of BOTOX®.
Me: "You don't want to look like one of those *air quotes* Real Housewives, do you?"
Me: "Dude. Seriously? They look like something out of a Mad Magazine with those crazy eyes and puffed up faces!"
Her: "Plus, you have to keep up with it."
Me: "Yeah, like a couple hundred bucks every five weeks or something outrageous. Not to mention, it deadens the muscles in your face so you can't move them. That's why they don't have any wrinkles, because they CAN'T MOVE THEIR FREAKIN' FACES!"
Her: *Laughs* "True, but it sure would be nice to just go in and *POP* get rid of it."
Me: "No doubt. But I think surgery would be the way to go. Hell, I've already got dibs on one of the dad's that used to go to our school. They moved away, but I know he'll cut me a deal when I'm ready and his wife said I could stay in their guesthouse. Plus, it would be a great bonding experience for the kids! You know... It's all about the kids." *Smiles*
Her: "Maybe we can get a 2-for-1!"
<< Maniacal laughter>>
When I got home that day, everything seemed darker. It was as if every wrinkle had gone to a party and brought home a new friend. And it was enough to make a grown woman cry–so I did. The next morning as I was brushing my teeth, I took a long, hard, and very depressing look into the mirror. And then I saw it: The same deep grooves around my mouth that my friend was nearly in tears over the day before. How did I miss that? Now it's ALL I see, which thankfully takes the focus off that stupid lip.
The moral of the story is this: getting old sucks! And, no matter where you hide, your age will find you, and will serve as a constant reminder of what is to come. Sure, there are ways to slow it down and make it look better than it is; but in the end, it will catch up. And if you're not careful, you can end up looking like an inflated lizard head on a Popsicle® stick.
Think smart, marry a plastic surgeon; it's really your only chance at surviving vanity.
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