Dear Pretty Young Woman Who Looked At Me, Aghast & With Considerable Pity, As I Described My Latest Battle With My Chin Hairs:


Hey. Nice earrings.

I’m guessing you’re about 23 or 24. Am I right? The dew of your youth and all that. You believe you know it all, have seen it all, when basically you’re an infant who can legally drink. I know, because I was once 23 or 24. Granted, this was kind of a long time ago, but I have journals and poems from around then and while I may not remember all the particulars, it’s pretty well supported by this dreck. So I know that this is the way I was at that age, in the early Nineties, when you were probably starting kindergarten. Really – you should read some of this stuff. It’s HILARIOUS.

Gravity has not had its way with you yet. Everything’s nice and perky and looks good in a wee angora sweater, or a smart little blouse, or a high-waisted pencil skirt. I used to wear that kind of stuff, too, until I woke up one morning and discovered that someone had replaced my cute butt with a half-opened bag of ricotta.

You see, the decline has begun for me, pretty little thing. I have developed strange, misshapen areas that no amount of time on the elliptical machine will eradicate. I am beginning to see the beginnings of jowls. JOWLS. And the spider veins…dear God, the spider veins. The backs of my legs look like the AAA roadmaps you get at the gas station. I won’t get into the sprouting of little, wiry hairs in inconvenient and embarrassing places, because clearly this horrifies you. But in about 10 years, you may want to consider having tweezers in your purse. Like…AT ALL TIMES. I’m just saying.

Because it will happen to you, my dear, depending – of course – on genetics and/or a willingness to go to expensive and unnatural measures to prevent it from happening. So maybe not ALL of what I’ve described will happen, but I’m fairly confident that you WILL be appalled at SOMETHING that your cute, firm little bod didn’t have 2 weeks ago. Like chin hairs.

I want you to know that it’s okay, though. I am embracing my impending crone-hood.

The most beautiful women I know have their stories on their faces. It’s more intriguing than statement jewelry or cute shoes, although I’m still partial to those things as well. I would rather have the look of someone who’s lived through some stuff than to look 24, although – don’t get me wrong – I greatly enjoyed looking like I was 24…when I was 24. Some of the stuff that happened to me at 24 is on my face RIGHT NOW. I wouldn’t be 24 again if you PAID me.

So, please, don’t feel sorry for me (although I suppose I can understand your horror at the chin hair thing).

PS – Use sunscreen. Seriously.