Nor my dream band man, Justin Hayward.
Though, unlike me, I doubt very much that Mr. Hayward spends an hour each morning "putting on his face", i.e., washing his face with Clean and Clear Pore Perfecting Cleanser, followed by a generous slathering of ROC Complete Lift Serum upon said face, followed by a couple of healthy dabs of ROC Multi Correction Eye Treatment under and around the eyes, followed by another slathering of Clean and Clear Pore Perfecting Moisturizer (SPF 15), and then several more dottings of various and sundry concealers and eye brightners...and FINALLY...a shmear of Revlon Photo Ready liquid makeup, a little eye shadow, voluminous lash-building mascara, eyeliner, some blush, and....
My God, no wonder I am late for work almost every day!
I mean, you throw in the whole daily shower/hair regimen -- the anti-cellulite body scrub, the shampoo for color treated hair, the extra volume mousse, the super hold hair spray...yowsa!
It's amazing I make it to work at all!
Did I mention the teeth brightener gel that I add to my regular anti-cavity/tartar/plaque toothpaste after slamming back a healthy breakfast shake made of Spiru-Tein high protein energy powder, skim milk and Greek yogurt, a chaser of GNC Be Wholesome Health and Beauty Vitapak Dietary Supplement For Women on the side?
Note the words "For Women."
What it should say, of course, is "For Aging Baby Boomer Women Over The Age Of 40 Holding On To What's Left Of Their Fleeting (or, in my case, done-flet) Youth By Their Crows' Feet And/Or The Flabby Skin Of Their Yellowing Teeth."
But if all the anti-aging products marketed for us older women actually said THAT, we would never buy all those perfecting moisturizers, lifting serums, and other "correcting" eye creams that promise to visibly diminish dark circles and wrinkles for more "luminous" eyes.
Why, while John and I watched a couple of hours of the NCIS marathon on the USA channel recently, every freaking commercial was hawking a magic potion of some kind guaranteed to make us old gals look 18 again.
Eighteen? Ha! I'd be happy with 48.
"So which face are you putting on this morning?" John jokes as I slowly climb the stairs into my attic dressing room each morning...a cuppa very strong, very caffeinated joe in one arthritic hand, my "Menopause Sucks" book in the other.
Once alone in front of my vanity mirror, I take both my hands and pull my saggy little face back as tight as I can and I see once again-- if for only a brief second -- the taut, wrinkle-free young thing I used to be.
Then I let go of my face, and voila! I'm Grandmama Addams! Yikes-a-roni!
When did all my facial elasticity snap? When did my eyelids begin to droop? Where did my eyelashes go? Funny, I don't remember anyone yelling, "Last call! Estrogen!" That's probably because I had my Moody Blues 33 RPM vinyl album blaring from my stereo most of my teenage years, which might explain the tinnitus in my left ear today...
Yes, some of us grow old gracefully, and some of us do not. But eventually, if we are fortunate, we all age. And with age comes wisdom...and we realize, at last, that true beauty comes from within...
Nevertheless, a gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do when she has a chance to meet one of the more gracefully aging rock icons of her long-ago youth...especially when the concert is a mere three days after her (gulp) 35th high school class reunion...
So many years to erase, so little time!