As you age, gravity is not your friend. Sure, it keeps you from floating into the atmosphere and rooted to the ground, sure. It also drags your boobs to your knees well before you're fifty. There's so much underwire in my bra just trying to keep the girls elevated, that it set off the metal detectors at the airport on my last flight.
The term "perky" can not be used to describe any part of my soon to be 48-year old body. Unless of course you're talking about the perky little wire-y hair that springs from my chin every couple of weeks. It's kinda perky. And annoying. I can no longer see to pluck anything off my face - not my chin hairs, not my eyebrows, so now I've resorted to paying some sweet little islander to drip hot wax on me and rip the hair right off my face every 5 weeks or so. No one tells you this when you're younger. No one tells you hair grows in places you never imagined it would grow on a woman. I won't even get into the subject of nose hair.
But here's what finally got me today. Today was the day that I arose from a comfortable night's sleep and toddled into the bathroom where upon inspection of my reflection I wondered...when did I become Nick Nolte?
