I'm so vain...[I probaly think this post is about me]
The thing about me is...I may be a little vain. Oh, not Carly Simon material, but still, you know I like to look nice. A cute new outfit or kick butt boots, I am completely undone. Fashion trendy things blow my hair back. A great hair cut puts me over-the-moon happy. I'm working on this disorder. Sort of. Not really. Whatever. Anyway I guess I've kind of always been like this. Like when I joined a gym in my early twenties-then ran straight to the Mall and went into debt buying new work out clothes...I know, right! Who does that?
I've come to the realization, in between bouts of nostalgia (a trait I suffer happily) and enjoying a recurrent romp down memory lane, that I am a crow-footed baby boomer with a interesting past, and while it's amusing to look back I will never again have the buff, polished thighs of Tina Turner (if indeed I ever did) instead of my own chubby, wobbly, pale set of gams.
Yeah. I'm talking covetous.
As I shuffle through old photographs (worn and creased from handling) and listen to songs that evoke the summer of 1969, it occurs to me that indeed, I am getting older. Photos of a youthful me. A junior year of high school me. Full of hope and promises. A little breathless at all life has to offer. Surprisingly, the features are the same, and sadly, my hair hasn't changed all that much, not as pouf-ie (it was the sixties) a little longer and just a touch darker. The eye makeup too was heavier, darker, then. But the skin, ah! the skin was smoother. Fuller. Tighter. Taunter. No laugh lines. No creases. No crows feet. And there wasn't anything going on with my neck and chin(s). I've been highly aware of my neck lately. It seems to suddenly have lines and creases that weren't there just a day or two ago. I also have the beginnings of a condition that may require me to wear turtle necks year round. I swear this aging thing happens over night.
Aging is tough. No matter which way I tip it, at the end of the day, there's that. This pains me a just a bit, because I'm an eternal optimist. As in, keep an eye on me around almost-empty glasses, Ive been known to top them off, just to bring them up to snuff, to half-full, where they belong. Honestly. How do I cope? I aim to
Mrs Stein's Chocolate Cake