Exercise, healthy eating and a variety of potions (which are my secret) keep me alive and kicking as I enter the years that some call “senior.” I realize that I won’t be able to hold aging off indefinitely, but I can probably drag my feet long enough that it will wait for me.
Face it. We’re all looking for the Fountain of Youth. Some of us subject ourselves to botox injections, although personally I’d rather die with my wrinkles than let anyone near my face with a needle. But that’s just me. Perhaps if I were a movie star or some other public figure I’d want my looks to take precedence over my sanity and comfort.
How much do we spend every year on make up, the shadows, and foundation, and blushes, and other accoutrements that mask our true selves, while we are prodded and fooled into believing that we’re going for a natural look?
Hair. Nails. Waxes. Facials. Massages. On and on, millions of dollars, light years of precious time wasted from our limited lifespan in pursuit of youth. Or, at least its vestiges, because, who really wants to be 21 years old again? Not me. I’m glad to be done with all that drama with men, indecision about career and concern about whether to drag myself down with babies and a house in the suburbs.
But, I may have found a way to beat Mother Nature at her own game. Prenatal vitamins.
Today, as I walked down the unassuming aisles of my local Target, dejected about mistaking my reflection in the jewelry department mirror for my mother, yet again, I happened upon what I believe to be the Fountain of Youth. Disguised as prenatal vitamins, these magic bullets undoubtedly have the effect of restoring my healthy glow and rotund cheeks, which I took for granted when I was 6 months old. It’s a chance for a do-over!
Healthy bones rather than the osteoporotic frame that nature has cruelly handed me? No offense to Sally Fields and Blythe Danner, but the products they hawk merely halt the progression of bone deterioration. I’m going for a cure here, baby!
Shiny eyes instead of the greenish-tinted orbs clouded with cataracts? Dare I hope to toss away my reading glasses without having to undergo the knife of surgery?
The joy of running, jumping, seeing and hearing just like I did before Father Time tipped his hat in my direction! The magic is within my grasp, if only I can stop my gnarled hand from shaking as I pour the blessed capsules into my lined palm and slowly lift them to my dry, parched lips. Damn! I never remember to drink enough water! Isn’t that another of those elderly curses? Dehydration?
The next time you see me, my skin will be smooth as a baby’s butt. I’m sharing with you, but don’t spread it around. We don’t want to flummox the rest of the world. It’s hard enough out here for a cool old lady. Don’t you agree?