Wrinkles just aren’t funny. I’m sitting here trying to find a humorous spin on the fact that I have discovered wrinkles. On my face of all places. Knee wrinkles, no biggie, a few wrinkles on my hands? No problemo. On my face?? Okay, that’s just not funny.
If I take my glasses off and look in the mirror my skin is soft, supple and totally unlined. Did I mention I’m half blind without my glasses? As soon as I put the darned things on the truth slaps me in the face. I’m getting older.
I’m not sure who coined the phrase “Laugh Lines” but I’m not seeing the humor in it. At no point have I ever looked at those little lines and laughed. Not even a snicker.
So now what? According to the barely 20 year old woman on my television, wrinkles are no match for modern science. All I have to do is get deadly bacteria injected into my face.
WHOA! Hold up. Bacteria. Injected. On purpose?? My face?? Let me get this right, people pay money to have a deadly bacteria injected into their bodies, losing all ability to show facial expressions? Woohoo, sign me up!
Moving along, I could also get an acid peel. Sounds fun right?? I can have burning acid poured on my face to remove all the damaged layers of skin. After the skin peels off, I walk around for a month looking like Samantha from Sex in The City. Remember that episode? Her face made a child cry. I have children, it’s hard enough to get them to eat dinner, imagine the trouble I’d have talking them into eating their hamburger when it so closely resembles Mommy’s face??
There are always fat injections to fill out and plump up those pesky wrinkle lines. The doctor simply sucks some fat from my butt and injects into my face. Again with the injecting. The only thing less funny than wrinkles is needles. More funny than wrinkles would be the jokes my husband could make about me having my own butt for a face. Wrinkle free or not, I’m not subjecting myself to that.
When did wrinkles become such a bad thing for women? Men with wrinkles are distinguished looking but women just look old? I think not. It’s bad enough men get to be chunkier than women, but they get to have wrinkles in peace too? How the heck is that fair?
The thoughts of deadly bacteria, molting skin and a butt face have me reconsidering this entire wrinkle elimination idea. Looking a little more closely in the mirror, with my glasses on of course, I’m having trouble seeing why these little lines are such a traumatic thing.
The lines around my eyes? Those are from laughing at my children. The little crows feet around my mouth? I’m pretty sure I got those from puckering up to kiss my husband so often. I can’t believe I actually considered getting rid of those. No way. I earned them, and they are badges of honor. My face has a story to tell, and that story is filled with love and laughter.
The beauty industry can keep their needles, I’m keeping my face just the way it is. Wrinkled and happy.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
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