Dorothy leaned across the table and lowered her voice, “Did you notice Mary at the barbeque yesterday?”
“Oh yes,” Alice nodded. “She has a new one.”
“Maybe it’s me,” Dorothy frowned, “but I could swear Loraine has two new ones.”
Dorothy shifted in her seat, “Do you think we should tell them?”
“No way,” Alice’s eyes popped, “I’m not sayin’ anything.”
“You’re probably right,” Dorothy sighed, “they will notice soon enough.”
The girls took a sip of tea and changed the subject.
We are bombarded with products which supposedly cause our skin to be smooth and wrinkle free. There are constant ads on TV about procedures that make us look twenty years younger.
“I don’t want to be seventy-two and look and look fifty,” I yell at the screen, “it would creep me out. I have a fifty-one year old daughter … morons.”
Sorry, but I tend to be outspoken these days. And then there’s the make-up. Back in the day we used to “put a little color in our face.” I still do being a woman and all.
Today it’s an out-and-out make-up war, including false eye lashes. I mean, men put on make-up. C’mon now.
I feel sad for people on the telly who actually believe they look wonderful. I say, “Get the spatula and scrape some o’ that gup off your face so you can breathe.”
The saddest part is the message America sends to our children: It is bad to be old.
Thing of it is—old is not how you look but what’s going on inside. You make the choice. My attitude…
“I can’t help growing old but I will never be old.” Maxi Malone
May Your Glass Always Be Half Full