DEFYING GRAVITY

I'm starting to sag.  Everywhere.  Gravity isn't pretty.  

If you were a child during the Apollo moon launch years, you remember seeing the astronauts on TV, floating around inside their spaceship, drinking orange Tang.  I wanted to be up there with them, somersaulting in invisible nothingness.  Today, I'd like to be in orbit, even if for a few minutes, just to see certain body parts move back to where they belong.  

Experts say you should avoid alcohol, if you want to keep your youthful glow.  I ignore them, and, if you subscribe to this blog, I suspect you do too.  I'd rather be wrinkly than neurotic.  Instead, I've decided to pair my Merlot with a select line of skin care products.  Then forget about it and just enjoy life.  Or another glass of wine.  

Plastic surgery isn't an option for me. The surgery part I understand. I have no idea what the plastic means.    Until I find out, no one is coming at me with a scalpel while I'm unconscious.  That's just plain scary.  And expensive. 

Here's a different approach. I think we should embrace our wrinkles, and even name them. 

You know the two "worry lines" between your eyes, just above your nose? I think I'll call mine Ian and Peter, after my sons.  After all, they put them there.  Imagine two teenagers skateboarding off the roof of our two-story colonial home.  "But Mom, we only did it when there was snow on the ground."  That actually seemed reasonable to them.  Obviously, the neighbor who ratted them out disagreed.  

My smile lines will be named after Duncan.  He always makes me laugh.   Years ago, we were standing in the kitchen, while Peter was in his baby swing, screaming.  You know - one of those high-pitched wails that makes you feel like nails are being driven into your temples.  As the howling continued, in strutted two-year-old Ian.  He smiled impishly, ran to the refrigerator, threw open the door, and fired off a barrage of raw eggs.  Surrounded by shells and yolks, Duncan looked at me and said, "We can either laugh or cry."  I think I did a bit of both.  

I'm not sure I can come up with a name for my crow's feet.  Or if I want to.  But "you're an idiot for not wearing your sunglasses" seems like a good option. 

Hopefully, in time, each of us will come to appreciate that true beauty isn't something you're born with or preserved.  It's earned.  We see it etched in the faces of those who choose to live life fully, with character and grace.  Those who embrace the ordinary moments that make life extraordinary.  No amount of gravity can ever diminish their loveliness. 

Or yours. 

Now go indulge in a tall, cool glass of Tang.  Or a fine Merlot.