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Lorraine, you have unwittingly brought up an entirely new and disturbing issue we women have to deal with whilst (I saw The Nanny and I like this word) going through the magical and very special journey of Menopause.

The issue:  FACIAL HAIR!

And the tricky thing about facial hair is that you have to put on your reading glasses to see any protruding signs of testosterone.  And when you have your reading glasses on when you look in the mirror, well…let’s just say…depressing (and that’s even after Botox, Juvederm and Retina-A!).

A couple of months ago I went to one of those quickie nail salons where the women are wonderful but don’t speak a word of English.  There’s always a lot of nodding and smiling going on.

Whilst I was sitting there getting a manicure, the technician suddenly leaned across to me and stuck out a very long bony finger.  She was pointing to something on my face saying (in a loud voice mind you in the crowded salon), “L O O O N G  H A A A A A A I R! 

L O O O N G  H A A A A A A I R!”

I had no idea what she was talking about, so I just sat there nodding and smiling.

She became impatient with me.

“NO, YOU HAVE L O O O O O O N G  H A A A A A I R!” pointing to a mole on my face.

OMG!  I suddenly felt like a 7^th grader who’s been humiliated because she can’t yet fit into a training bra and the pubescent pimply boys are pointing and snickering and muttering something about being a “carpenter’s dream” (fine, that was me but it’s too painful to talk about).

As I realized she was pointing out a very long hair that had appeared out of a lovely fashionable mole on my face (much like Cindy Crawford’s), I was horrified to see every head in the place turn in my direction. 

I turned a nice shade of bright red which fortunately matched my nail color perfectly.

“YOU WANT GOOOOOOONE?  YOU WANT WAAAAAAAX?”

Now the crowd leaned forward in anticipation of my response.

“Well, uh, sure, snicker snicker, okay, yeah that sounds good.”

Fortunately, I was whisked quickly into a secret back room where hot cruel wax was slathered on my face and a form of torture never felt before was performed ten minutes later.

The good news is that I left with beautiful nails and a hairless face (although still red).

Now I have a new obsession and have purchased a small mirror and a razor I keep with me at all times.  Guess I won’t be flying anytime soon.

Mary 

Hey Mary,

Looking at the Mona Lisa all “pimped-out” is so disturbing.  At least Mona knew how to age-gracefully; something that our current society has not only forgotten but probably doesn’t think is possible.

We were supposed to be the generation of strong and empowered women yet we fold like a cheap pant-suit when we see a wrinkle …….we act immediately to have it filled or stretched so we can keep the middle-aged facial slide at bay.

Yes, you and I did the Juvederm in some localized spots and we are happy with the results but I think we are slowly realizing that even with a little help at “maintenance”, our age is starting to show.

The thought of constant up-keep in the form of needles, toxins and pain with the consummate procedure being a full face lift is making me nervous.  Nervous not only about the actual cutting and stitching but nervous about always feeling nervous about what aging looks like.

We really only look 40 something in the dark of night, in the fog or under lights with major filters and we have to start dealing with that reality. Our 50 years may slowly be showing on our mugs and somehow we have to gain the confidence of putting it out there and feeling GREAT about it.

Definitely easier said then done in a world of “younger is just better”, but we have to start with any coping mechanisms that will stave off looking plastic, worked-on and just plain silly….

I will start looking for these mechanisms as soon as the Juvederm wears off…!!

Lorraine

I’ve been thinking about Lorraine and my recent trip to the Botox/Juvederm guy.  And, I have to admit I’m liking the results, now that I’m past the bruised and battered phase.

But I’m also realizing, what are all of these age-denial money-sucking procedures ultimately going to do for me?

A depressing realization when I asked the Botox guy if the Botox would clear the wrinkles away and make me look 10 years younger.  He sadly shook his head and said, “We’re talking face-lift for that!”

Uggghhh…face-lift?

I can’t even enjoy my new superficial “facial” because all I can think about is a possible future face-lift.

I know there has to be some kind of happy medium.  I just don’t want to end up like this Mona Lisa.

I mean at some point enough is enough.

Mary