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Thursday, May 15, 2008

The cover-up.......

When I was 17, there were no gray roots to deal with. In my 20's, I never worried or even knew about stray chin hairs. When I was in my 30's, I doubt I even imagined that wrinkles could exist on anyone except my dear Aunt Sarah. And, I'm absolutely certain I never gave a moment's thought to spider veins or bunions or less-than perky breasts during those blissfully ignorant years. Now, these thoughts creep into my mind on a daily basis. Not only that....they have become part of my everyday upkeep. I need to dye, pluck, lift up, suck in, harness, deal with, live with and sometimes even hide.....all of those things and more. I'm not sure when all this upkeep began. All I know is that I have come to the point in my life that I have to put quite a bit of energy, resources and creativity into the simple act of walking out my door!
Clothes. Shoes. Jewelry. Make up. That's the fun part. Fashion is my friend. Shoes are my soul mates. Jewelry is my creativity. Make up is my colorful flair. The other things---the gray roots and all that other stuff--they aren't so fun. They slowly and unexpectedly found their way into my life without an invitation. So, now I have to make time for appointments to get rid of my gray roots. I have to be vigilant about pesky unwanted hair. I have to wear longer shorts to cover those little purplish marks on the sides of my knees. I have to wear supportive, underwire bras and I've become very friendly with Spanks. I try not to squint. When I have a contraband cigarette, I try not to suck on it too hard. And, these days, I take notice where the seams are on shoes before I buy them. Yes, I am always on the look out for interesting and fresh ways to make things not look or feel so bad. A master of disguise, that's me.

My mother used to sing a little song to us when we were went like this....
My little girl when we were married,
On the first night we were wed,
You put your false teeth on the mantel
And your wooden leg under the bed,
You put your falsies on the table
And your wig was on the chair.
My little girl I'd love to hold you
But you're scattered everywhere.
Yes, I know.....some mothers sang "Jesus Loves You" to their children. I guess my mother was a realist. Or, maybe she didn't know all the words to "Jesus Loves You". Or, perhaps she just had a wicked sense of humor. No matter. We loved that song. We would giggle and laugh. So, she would sing it over and over again. To us...her 3 little girls----the story was absurd. Now.... not so much. I get it. On one hand, I understand aging. When it is happening to someone else. On the other hand, I'm okay with aging. When I can make it look good. If the day should come that I can't make it look good---I will be scattered everywhere. And, I won't be giggling. (can't have laugh lines you know)

So, I'm vain. Not a shocker. Yet, all of my vanity can't stop the clock. It can't slow it down or turn back the hands of time. I hate not having control. So, on those occasions when reality hits me smack in the middle of my forehead, I feel quite miserable. Especially when my hairdresser (my own sister!) says to she adds the dye to my roots...." WOW!!!! You really need this!". As much as I am grateful for the technology that allows me to walk into her salon with gray roots and walk out an hour or so later with brownish roots, I still can't help but feel the misery of knowing what my real hair color is these days.

On most days, I try not to think about all of the upkeep I need. Therein lies the true COVER UP! The TRUE cover up is not the hair dye or the make up or all the other things I do to hide my age. The TRUE COVER UP is right my head---I try NOT to think so much about it! Or, I try to convince myself that I really am the young woman who lives inside my head. Go ahead, you might as well send in the FBI. I'm not who I say I am. I am really a 49 year old woman with gray hair, droopy breasts, wirey chin hairs, bunions, crow's feet and creased lips. Yes, I know, I do cover it up quite well. And, I will continue to do so. But, there's one thing that I am not having much luck with in this regard. Finding a bathing suit. I haven't been able to find a bathing suit that will cover up my body in a way that I want to cover it up without really covering it up that much. Does that make any sense? Okay, okay.....maybe I should just stop all these shenanigans and buy a damn bathing suit. If it fits, I should just buy it. Maybe I should stop trying to find the perfect bathing suit and just buy a great COVER UP.


Daffodil Hill said...

Thanks for the laugh! Hope you find exactly what you're looking for. : )

Bakhirun said...

Love your blog. I found it when I wanted to google up the lyrics from that great song... after watching a quartet of old fellers sing it in this YouTube video: "The Sons of Wilma Breedlove". Trust you are aging well - I turn 70 this year but feel like a sprang chicken (not a sprung one). Hello, HaLOOO from Jakarta.