The ladies magazine I picked up in the doctor’s office yesterday was called Yo! You’re Old! Or it should have been. Page after page was filled with ads for surgeons, medical spas and treatment centers that were sure of one thing. What my life was missing was a complimentary consultation. No way should I go another day with bags under my eyes, hair above my lips and breasts that do the Limbo. How low can they go?
Of course if I did brave judgment day, I’m no fool. The plan would be to inject me, correct me, and point out flaws I’d already accepted, such as my royal chins- the heir and the spare. Then I’d be escorted down the vanity aisle. Care for a facelift, dermal fillers or laser rejuvenation? They’d probably try to interest me in vein therapy, too- or is it vain therapy?
But even if they offered me a deal like the You Pick Two at Panera Bread, I wouldn’t know where to start. Fix my teeth? My tush? My tummy? Is it the letter “T” day on Surgery Street?
Sadly, the articles in the magazine were even less uplifting. “One Month to a New You.” But I don’t want a new me. I want a new kitchen. One that has room for vending machines. “Love the Way He Smiles At You.” Trust me I’ll get the same reaction if I’m holding a steak in one hand and a beer in the other. “How DOES She Do it?” Yes, please tell me how my adorable neighbor, the one with the new eyelids, has time to juggle an affair with her personal trainer and still run the holiday bake sale.
I get it. Everything old is new again… unless our credit cards are maxed out. And while I don’t begrudge women like myself who want to maintain a youthful appearance, I am saddened by how many feel pressured to enroll in the Joan Rivers School of Aging.
Recently I ran into a former neighbor and in the middle of our chat she whispered, “Have you had work done?” To which I replied, “On my house?” She looked at me as if I’d just arrived from Planet Cold Cream but the question gave me chills. Was a Botox party in my future?
Frankly, the women I respect most are flawed but fabulous. While they may have more rolls than a bakery, hopefully the only knife they touch is to butter more bread. As it was with our mothers and grandmothers, true beauty should be measured by living a life with meaning.
Besides, no matter how hard we try to fool the mirror, we can never fool the stairs.
Saralee Rosenberg is the author of A LITTLE HELP FROM ABOVE, CLAIRE VOYANT, FATE AND MS. FORTUNE and DEAR NEIGHBOR, DROP DEAD. She has just finished her first novel for younger readers, THE MIDDLE SCHOOL MEDIUM. Visit her website. www.saraleerosenberg.com
Of course if I did brave judgment day, I’m no fool. The plan would be to inject me, correct me, and point out flaws I’d already accepted, such as my royal chins- the heir and the spare. Then I’d be escorted down the vanity aisle. Care for a facelift, dermal fillers or laser rejuvenation? They’d probably try to interest me in vein therapy, too- or is it vain therapy?
But even if they offered me a deal like the You Pick Two at Panera Bread, I wouldn’t know where to start. Fix my teeth? My tush? My tummy? Is it the letter “T” day on Surgery Street?
Sadly, the articles in the magazine were even less uplifting. “One Month to a New You.” But I don’t want a new me. I want a new kitchen. One that has room for vending machines. “Love the Way He Smiles At You.” Trust me I’ll get the same reaction if I’m holding a steak in one hand and a beer in the other. “How DOES She Do it?” Yes, please tell me how my adorable neighbor, the one with the new eyelids, has time to juggle an affair with her personal trainer and still run the holiday bake sale.
I get it. Everything old is new again… unless our credit cards are maxed out. And while I don’t begrudge women like myself who want to maintain a youthful appearance, I am saddened by how many feel pressured to enroll in the Joan Rivers School of Aging.
Recently I ran into a former neighbor and in the middle of our chat she whispered, “Have you had work done?” To which I replied, “On my house?” She looked at me as if I’d just arrived from Planet Cold Cream but the question gave me chills. Was a Botox party in my future?
Frankly, the women I respect most are flawed but fabulous. While they may have more rolls than a bakery, hopefully the only knife they touch is to butter more bread. As it was with our mothers and grandmothers, true beauty should be measured by living a life with meaning.
Besides, no matter how hard we try to fool the mirror, we can never fool the stairs.
Saralee Rosenberg is the author of A LITTLE HELP FROM ABOVE, CLAIRE VOYANT, FATE AND MS. FORTUNE and DEAR NEIGHBOR, DROP DEAD. She has just finished her first novel for younger readers, THE MIDDLE SCHOOL MEDIUM. Visit her website. www.saraleerosenberg.com
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