I'm NOT old... (damn it)

I'm not old... truly. I'm fat, yes, sore, yes, old... hell no. I see those little lines on my face. I see the HUGE lines on my face. I look in the mirror sometimes and wonder when the hell my grandmother's skin ended up on my body. But I'm not old. I pacify myself with the knowledge that I spent too many hours soaking up the sun without sunscreen as a teenager. My old looking SKIN is a sign of my vainness, I was HOT as a teenager... hell I was HOT in my twenties. So I had my time of hotness, I don't need that any longer, but damn. No matter how many creams, lotions, scrubs, and masks I use, I still have old skin.

There's the day you spend in the bathroom with 6 100-Watt bulbs and a magnifying mirror and you cry over the loss of your hot skin. You pull your new stretchy skin in every direction wondering where to hide the tape. Just when your eyes are finally drying up, you turn your head and get plowed with something new... facial hair. WHAT THE HELL?????? Did it fall off my head? Is THAT where all my eyelashes have been migrating to? Oh COME ON!!!!! So in your head you are hearing your mother... “You shave and it will only grow in darker and thicker”. *sigh* Ok then. What the hell are you suppose to do with all that? Ever try waxing sideburns full of peach fuzz that if were any darker, would make Elvis turn over in his grave from jealousy? FINE.

So I'm avoiding direct sunlight, I'm using lotion, creams, and Vaseline to keep them down, tight against my face, and pulling my hair forward. No more ponytails for me. It's ok, there aren't any hair ties small enough to hold what little hair I have left either.

I'm resigned to line, stretch, and hair on my face. I'm resigned to less hair on my head, more on my chin and chest. And bam... I go to the Eye Doctor and he informs me that I'm in my 40's now, like the bifocals are my welcome present. “Ummm... I don't THINK so... hook me up with some of them Progressives”. So 3 weeks later I have my old folk glasses in hand and am happy that no one will be able to tell... ha!!! I'm sooooo clever. I gingerly slide them onto the bridge of my nose....

HOLY CRAP... these are NOT my glasses... I can't see... my mouth is watering, I'm going to puke. The headache starts immediately, someone is stabbing me in the forehead with a pencil... my eyes water and turn so red I think I've finally smoked something good!

Tracy, the YOUNG, SKINNY little thing says: "Oh you have to GET USED TO THEM" “Ummm... ok... but when will I be able to walk, drive, or open my eyes?” She thinks I'm kidding and sends me on my way.

In all fairness, I tried them for a week. I endured the migraines, the chances I took while driving, I withstood the nausea, and the multiple tripping instances for a week. Yesterday I finally took them off and cried. What am I going to do now? I’m NOT OLD!!!! I can’t wear bifocals… so what’s left? Reading glasses dangling from my neck? What if the beads get snagged on my sideburns? CRAP!

The Man tells me that I am beautiful, no matter what. He said that when it's HIS turn, he will take it in stride and just wear the bifocals. Easy for HIM to say.

Let’s not even talk about those FEVERS I keep getting during the day.

Makes you wonder how old people do it. How they get used to being old and all, ‘cuz I am NOT old.