Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Looking In the Mirror

We weather life's vagaries and our faces take on character, or so we are told.  In reality, it is a polite way of saying someone is looking pret-tee damned old.  (Do you hear me sighing?)  I am developing a lot of character in my face these days and I hate to look in the mirror to be reminded.

Character is why the institution of marriage is so highly valued.  If you are not legally locked into a long term relationship by the time character shows up in your face,  you are not likely to find a loving mate for those "golden years".  People know just from seeing all that character that you are not going to tolerate any foolishness - no concrete animal sculpting, no NASCAR hat collections, no living with eighteen ferrets.  It is in every one's best interest to marry young and just endure until the end.  Really. 

So, now that my sterling character is transforming my face (into one very like my Great Aunt Ruth's, for God's sakes), and I have gladly given up the hope of ever finding the man of my dreams, what is left?  Apparently, I successfully raised my offspring to be anarchists not interested in reproducing, so I do not even have grandchildren. 

The pleasures of grandchildren might be a myth, too.  If I recall my sweet daughter throwing herself down in front of the Cabbage Patch doll display, screaming and thrashing about, or drag-racing my old car until the engine blew, I cannot be fooled by that "sugar and spice and everything nice" claptrap about little girls.  My only son was such a willful child that I got in fights with at least one household in every neighborhood we lived in.  One woman sent her poor husband to my front door twice because she claimed she was going to kick my ass if she came in person.  Well, she can spin it that way if she likes but we all know who was going to get her ass kicked...

Okay, so maybe grandchildren are not the answer to this character in my face, this new maturity.  I guess there is nothing much to be done.  I see the beautiful women of my generation transforming themselves into unappealing caricatures of their once natural beauty with surgery and butt fat in their lips, the skin on their necks pulled so tight they look unnatural and uncomfortable.  It is not a crime nor a sin to grow old.  It is merely difficult...  which adds more character...  

2 comments:

Kathy said...

Right on, (younger) sistah. I am pretty sure the fading of the eyesight in middle age is the kindly efforts of nature to protect us from having to see our image in the mirror with enough detail to see the majority of the wrinkl, er character lines. I find the same eyesight deficit to be a great help in reducing the amount of housecleaning that seems to be needed. If you can't see the dirt, it isn't there, right?

Jackie said...

As far as I know, dirt that isn't visible doesn't exist. I believe that's true!