Some days I look in the mirror and wonder is this still enough to keep the effects of aging at bay, or do I need to resort to more drastic measures? Truth be told, the chin hair bothers me more than wrinkles and it's more of a pointless, losing battle.

People tell me I don't look forty, and I guess that makes me happy. But then who knows what forty is supposed to look like? Can you discern ages among a group of people who haven't told you how old they are? I find that I can't. Though perhaps it is simply a symptom of age; to me, people either look like kids or adults, and number of people who truly look old to me keeps diminishing. Remember when you were in elementary school and all adults looked so impossibly old that you couldn't imagine yourself even getting that far? I vividly recall the first time I encountered a teenager who thought I was a "grownup." It happened in my mid twenties, and I had a good, long laugh about it. Thing is, most days I still don't feel any more "grown up" than I did then.

When it comes to how I look, I continue to notice the changes that my face and my body are going through, but I can't imagine being one of those "Extreme Makeover" contestants. Egads! I do have my small vanities, of course, but my looks have never been my strong suit. Perhaps, consequently, I will be less traumatized by watching them go than women who enjoyed great beauty in their youth.

Perhaps. On the other hand, I got out of the shower one day this week and discovered a longish hair on my chest, and it was white!

Ah, the ravages of time. Some days, when I look at all of the plastic surgery victims that populate television and movies, I become more succeptible to the marketing ploys of all those potions and creams. Other days, I'm glad my face actually has some distinguishing features, even if they are wrinkles and a beard.

6:26:10 AM    dish []