Monday, 12 March 2007

So I was wandering around Tesco today looking at the various "anti-aging" products, thinking there's not much I can do about the aging bit other than die. When did aging become something we were all anti? Does it happen on our 40th birthday, our 30th? There are so many "cures" and "concealers" and "enhancers" and "slimmers".

I blame mirrors. If we didn't look at ourselves, we wouldn't know we were fat, or wrinkly, or had cellulite or age spots. I don't think this is a recent phenomenon. I think potions of some sort or another have been around for a long time preying on those of us who aren't quite satisfied with our appearance.

I like to look in the mirror. Not that I like my appearance that much. I like to find the faults and see if I can hide them from everyone else. I have one of those big makeup mirrors with lights that shows up most everything. And it shows a lot these days. One night I went to bed and woke up with wrinkles under my eyes. I swear to God it happened that quick.

And I developed Ethel Merman arms one other night. Now if I sing "There's No Business Like Show Business" (which I haven't done since the window cleaner saw me perform naked) I can keep time with the jiggly bits.

The only solution for me is to stop sleeping. No one will notice the wrinkles for the dark circles.

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