Getting old

When I was a kid, I’d watch my Dad reading the Sunday paper. He’d lick his index finger on his right hand and slowly turn the page.

I loved books, I never had troubles turning the pages, so I figured it must have been an “old person” thing. You know, as you get older, your skin dries up, hence having to lick to replenish every few pages.

I’d always thought, “I’ll know when I’m old when I have to start licking my finger to turn a page”

Well that time came about a year ago. Sitting down on a Sunday morning, without even a second thought, I brought my finger up to my tongue and licked. It wasn’t until after I’d done it half a dozen times that I realized what I was doing.
I didn’t feel old. I didn’t look old....well I didn’t think I did.

I’d always had pretty crappy skin, hell, I still get pimples at 33! I’ve never been one to cleanse and tone and what not. My beauty regime consisted of washing my face with soap and......well that’s about it.

One of my many New Years resolutions was to look after my skin and moisturize more often. Seems like a relatively easy thing to do right? Phhhtttt.

3 weeks into the new year and I think I’ve moisturized, oh, maybe 4 times. I still don’t own cleanser or toner or any of that other wonderful stuff that’s suppose to reduce the size of your pores and erase wrinkles. That was until the other day.

Friday was Chad’s day off, so he agreed to meet me for lunch. Lunch time for us is usually an approximated time, so I told him to meet me between 12:30 and 1pm. At 1:15 he came and asked if he was going to have to wait much longer, his displeasure of having to sit around for too much longer was obvious, and having no idea how long I was going to be, I told him not to worry about it and go home, which he did.

I turned to the customer I was serving, who would have been all of about 1 meter away from me and said “grrrrr he can be such a turd sometimes”. And do you know what she said ????

“Was that your son?”

WTF???? I nearly hyperventilated!

She back peddled real quick when I told her that, no, he wasn’t my son, but my husband. She said she wasn’t wearing her glasses.... she was sooo sorry...... and just to sink the boot in a little further, she said “it’s your hair”

HUH??? Now I have old person hair!!! Yes the grays are starting to come through a little, but since when do old people have BRIGHT RED STREAKS??? I mean, it’s cool, and hip, and...........MY HAIR IS NOT OLD PEOPLE HAIR!! I use Fudge, and only cool, hip young-ins use Fudge to colour their hair right? Punks and goths and uber cool rock stars use Fudge! Look how hip their intro page is people!! Is that not cool?? Old people don’t use colours with names like Cherry Bomb, Red Corvette and Pretty Flamingo! I DON’T HAVE OLD PEOPLE HAIR!

Ahem......so anywho........guess who has become more diligent in her nightly skin care regime?

That’d be me.

And let me tell you, that jar of Olay had better turn back the hands of time, erase fine lines and give me visibly younger looking skin or ......or......... well I’ll do something, I’m not quite sure yet, but I’ll think of something. I’m still far too traumatized at having someone think that my 27 year old husband was my SON!

Someone pass me a bourbon.......