Defying Age, Defining Pores
I'm too young to be this old
by Daria Sockey
in Family
on Sunday, July 10, 2011 9:00 PM
I’d never been one of those women afraid to admit her age. For years people said that I looked far too young to be a mother of five (then six, then seven ... ).
So I was always quite pleased to tell how old I was and receive yet another compliment about my seemingly perpetual youth. Until this year, when I turned ... um … when I turned the age that I am now.
“I’m too young to be this old,” I said to my reflection in the mirror. “If I admit the truth, people might act like I am this age. They’ll start patronizing me, stop taking me seriously, and maybe even send me catalogs for comfortable shoes and elastic waist pants. Better to keep them guessing from now on.”
I tossed my head, flipped my hair, and gave my best mysterious smile.
That’s when I noticed the wrinkles near my eyes. The little pouch beneath my chin. And a sprinkling of small dark spots that made my left cheek resemble a preschooler’s connect-the-dots page.
“And so … it begins,” I said with grim yet calm determination. Sort of like Gandalf must have felt when he first learned that the black riders were abroad and searching for the Shire. The time had come to draw a line in the sand, arm myself with some age-defying products, and shake my fist in the face of Death.
Bring it on! ¡Olè! I mean, ¡Olay!
The next afternoon found me cruising the “skin care” section at the drugstore. That aisle of expensive little bottles for gullible females I’d previously disdained, other than to grab a giant economy-size hand lotion each fall. Rubbed on face, hands, and body, this used to see me through the central heating season.
But a careful study of the shelves revealed what a facial faux pas I’d committed all these years. There were separate moisturizers for hands, feet, face, neck, lips, and eyelids. And here I had thought skin was skin, wherever it was located.
Silly me.
Of course, before moisturizing, I’d have to first wash — oops! I mean cleanse — my face.
Or no, wait! Maybe I first needed a mini-peel formula to “activate regeneration of surface skin cells,” and only then an “illuminating cleanse” to eliminate those pesky “micro-residues” that still might be hanging on.
Yet another bottle suggested that my real problem might be a case of pores that needed redefining. I scampered over to a mirror in the makeup section to check out my pores. Well, yeah, they did seem to have a certain un-redefined look about them. Problem is, every one of these potions cost between 12 and 25 bucks a piece. One, or at the most two, of these were all I could afford.
So what were my priorities here? To fill in wrinkles or bring out my natural glow? To firm my cheeks or my eyelids? To even my skin tone or plump my lips? Collagen or retinol? Calcium or amino-peptides? Enhancing lotion, perfecting cream, or regenerating serum?
This baffling array of choices made me feel old indeed. I imagined myself twenty years from now, in my rocking chair, with teenage granddaughters sitting at my feet.
“Tell us again, Grandma, about skin care back when you were young.”
“Well, in my day we didn’t cleanse out faces — we washed ‘em! With soap, no less!” (the wide-eyed darlings gasp.)
“And we didn’t have any anti-aging ultra-plump lip treatment either, so we’d just rub in some Vaseline.”
“Eew! Gross, grandma!” says Miss Prissy Fastidious grandchild.
“Wow! Cool, grandma!” says Miss Edgy Rebel grandchild. “Can I try some soap and Vaseline? We won’t have to tell mom.” (I always did like that girl better than her sister.)
Coming out of my reverie, I made my choice and headed for home. As I cam in the door, Bill greeted me with a kiss planted on my thinning, wrinkled lips. “Wow! You’re beautiful! How did I ever manage to get to marry someone as pretty as you?”
Guess I’d forgotten that I already owned a lifetime supply of the best anti-aging product there is. Sure, I’ll try out the beauty goo from the drugstore. But the pressure is off. The love of my man will keep me forever young.
—Senior writer Daria Sockey fights her age gracefully at home in Pennsylvania.
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