Men grow old with dignity and their wrinkles and thinning hair only lead to descriptions of craggy, rugged, character. In fact many men look better as they age. We often hear a remark of an older Hollywood male celebrity, “Wow, he’s aging well.” And then an older Hollywood woman shows up on the screen and we say something like, “Gawd she looks like crap on toast.” He looks weathered; she looks like a prune. It is so unfair.
I just want to slap craggy men, by the way.
It seems like just yesterday I looked in the mirror and gazing back at me was this hot young chick who strutted her stuff in heels and mini skirts and had boobs that actually pointed in the correct direction. She also had a peaches and cream complexion and drop dead red hair down to, well, that’s enough of this stroll down mammary memory lane.
Those days I didn’t think twice about not wearing a bra; these days the word “support” springs bounces comes to mind more frequently as I get dressed.
Then: Heels – always heels because everyone knows heels make your legs look skinny. Now: Crocs with socks. OMG I have turned into a What Not to Wear poster child. Yes, I spend days on end in jammies and a tee shirt. Ack Ack.
It’s all a part of aging and we ladies have issues with aging. Men? Not so much. Devoted Spouse had the same hair style for the last 26 years until I recently convinced him to jazz it up a bit. Now he’s learning about hair products. He used to think hair products meant a bottle of Head and Shoulders, God love his heart.
I find I spend a good deal of time in the bathroom these days inspecting various things. I had Devoted Spouse put up one of those makeup mirrors – you know…the kind that you can flip over and your image is suddenly magnified a thousand times? Note to self: Don’t buy another one of those.
I was at my usual station (on my side of the double vanity in our bathroom gazing into the magnified mirror) the other night while on the other side of the vanity Devoted Spouse was quietly brushing his teeth. I started discussing what I was seeing in the magnifying mirror assuming he wasn’t listening to me babble away. I may have said something on the order of: “I have so many of these hairs coming out of my chin I’m thinking of adopting them and giving them names. Have you met the twins here?” Apparently this was the one time Devoted Spouse was actually listening to me as he spit mouthwash everywhere and proceeded to choke.
I’m going to leave it at The Twins for now. I’m afraid if I actually give them real names when more of my CRS hits I’ll forget which hair has what name and that would just be so upsetting. And do I pick female names or male names? Or generic names like celebrities with their babies. Then again, celebrities probably don’t name the hair on their chins either.