So, my body is beginning to betray me.
Or maybe the betrayal has been underway for years and I'm just now getting the memo.
One might ask how it is possible to ignore the ever-mounting evidence (though some of that evidence no longer mounts so much as it crumbles). How could I miss the long-ago freckles now transformed into age spots? The heels that moan with each early-morning shuffle? Can a person really overlook a belly and breasts that sag like the pants of a teenaged poser? And, just now, as I type this, there are the gently falling flakes jarred loose from my right eyebrow.
Ah, a rose by any other name. . .
Alas, it seems I am the the star of my own "Spinnin' Wheels" revival, where what once went up now goes down. . . And, like a parent, my brain is the last to know.
The sound of that slow realization is money to a marketer's ears. Nowadays, when I walk into Walgreens, I dawdle in the Beauty aisle, haphazardly picking up things with the name "Revivalist" or "Rejuvenating" or "Tightening" on them. And, long before I finally land upon the candy aisle, I have scoured the vitamins and sleep aids, the whiteners and wetteners.
What, do I think the cashier is an idiot? That she won't be able to cull my true purpose from the cleverly padded pile in my basket?
Eclipse Gum--99 cents. Bic Pens--$1.25. Oil of Olay Regenerist--$19.95. Suave--$1.29 (costs a little less, but I'm worth it). Excedrin PM--$10.99. Udder Balm--$3.25. Depends...not just yet, but why not plan ahead?
I sneezed about 5 minutes ago and wet myself in the process. Well, not really in the process. More like down there. And so, I will keggle my way through the rest of this piece. Squeezing and releasing. Squeezing and releasing my way back to something that resembles my drier, tighter past.
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