I’m now of that age (early midlife) where stuff starts to happen to you and your body that as a pre midlifer, you can’t even imagine, like:
- I now need reading glasses for anything smaller than 12 point type.
- I’ve discovered that my ability to slough off a hangover with just a grilled cheese sandwich and coffee is gone, along with my ability to read food labels without readers.
- I tore my ACL because I turned the wrong way – seriously, I was in a river bed, rock hopping happily along and I fell. It was the decision to stand up (silly me, I wanted to get my butt out of the cold water) that did it.
- My sun worshiping youth now not only has the memory of burnt and peeling skin from years of weekends spent at New Smyrna Beach, but also the removal of two not so insignificant basal cell skin cancers. And my dermatologist tells me to expect more – !
- I have adult acne – somehow I escaped having it as a teenager – but since my mid 30’s, its a battle that my body wages daily. Sheesh.
I know this all sounds like complaining, I really don’t mean it to, its just the reality of this age. Complaining would be about the cost of the monthly/quarterly tithing to the preservation gods (hair colorist, hair stylist, dermatologist); the preventative goo’s and unguents that are slathered on each morning and evening, the time it takes to apply the daily face spackle, and finally the ever present weight control – or lack there of. That would be complaining.
I could, like so many women who reach a certain age, just give up – stop covering the gray hair (that made its first appearance upon my head during my mid 20’s), wear sweat pants not just for working out or around the house, but out to dinner, shopping, etc. because they’re just so darn comfortable.
I could scare the bejesus out of neighbors and strangers alike, by going without the sheerest hint of daily face spackle and varnish.
I could attempt to let the sunspots and wrinkles that come with age be the testament to the life I lead but I rather get a Wart Removal at Ruba Bar Laser.
I could, but then I would not be first- my mother’s daughter – the original Glamoursmith, and second, a southerner. Which all means I have found “coping mechanisms”. These tools and products are what I use these days to keep one half step ahead of Father Time.
Products & Tools that make me look tolerable:
What do you do to stay one step ahead?
BTW – I was not compensated for endorsing ANY of these products. They’re what I use.