by 
For a long time, I enjoyed a mirror-mind disconnect. Being severely myopic, this illusion was bolstered by seeing myself in the mirror through a “Murder She Wrote” hazy filter. I never liked being photographed, so many of my pictures are of a younger me, but with enhanced mobile phone photo technology, I get to see myself way too often. So rather than thinking I still look 40, now I know I look 57.
Reality really set in when I was accosted by a salesman touting his skincare miracles. I was on King Street in Charleston, SC, the major shopping and restaurant thorofare full on hundreds of pedestrians. This guy ran across the street once he spotted me (nobody else). I was really pissed. After all, my bathroom is already full of skincare products promising “The Fountain of Youth”. By now I should look about 15! Instead, my chin is sagging into my chest, I no longer can see my ribs, and my new favorite song is “Fat Bottom Girls” by Queen.
When my husband of 30 years, Jon and I starting dating, we would create stories of his mom being a CIA operative hunting down bad guys with her comfortable shoes and trusty handbag. Did you know my favorite shoes are Birkenstocks and Naots? Watch out bad guys, I have a laser guided Dooney & Bourke™ waiting to get you!
Of course, there is plastic surgery. In the famous words of Joan Rivers, “I saw what’s going on under my chin. I don’t want to be the one the president has to pardon on Thanksgiving”. She refused to give into the natural order. Good for her. We miss you and love you Joan! And there is always exercise, Nah.
