AS I LOVINGLY KISS EACH PASSING DECADE GOODBYE and enter a the next one I observe a bittersweet kind of relief flowing through me. My whole being relaxes as the self-imposed pressure of having to look a certain way, whatever that may be for that particular decade vanishes into thin air. Welcoming in the next ten years, I feel like I magically get a new imaginary lease on youthful looks.
It’s my own quirky way of feeling good about traversing the decades. You see, some people really freak out about the round birthdays. Interestingly, I’ve noticed it’s mostly men that are squeamishly uncomfortable about it. I’m serious, I had a male friend who was positively mortified about turning thirty. Imagine his face when his girlfriend threw him a big party!
Me? Heck, I love a good birthday party, bring on the champers.
It’s the bad lighting that gets my goat. Mortification strikes hard if I’m out on a hot date and I, um… have the unthinkable misfortune up being unstrategically seated at the one restaurant table that has those cursed, blazing 5,000 watt interrogation spot lights positioned right over my head. The kind of unforgiving light that exposes every little sign of the next decade that I’ve worked so hard to play down.
Not even that single, stubborn stump of an errant old man eyebrow hair that broke off in my tweezers just an hour ago (yes, you heard me, old man eyebrow hair) is left unseen.
Oh, God… “waiter, oh WAITER!!!!” I’ll ask, squelching a shriek with a desperate smile and pleading eyes. “May we please have that table over there is the darkest of corners I don’t care if it’s next to the swinging kitchen doors just move us NOW, please.”
One look at that wayward eyebrow hair along with the fork in my clenched hand and our garçon gets the gist of it. No point in arguing, scurry along and get me that table. Even my hot date has retreated five feet away from me, wondering what the heck just happened.
But really, doesn’t it kind of get to you when you’ve sweated over your figure to get it where you want it to be, gotten facials and plenty of rest, downed bathtubs of water and still, the face looking back at you in the mirror just looks tired no matter what? Unless you’re in a dark cave and there’s no moon.
Of course our self image is all a state of mind but let’s be honest, aging is inevitable and so is our desire to look our best. For most folks, anyway. If feeling good about yourself involves a little visit to a cosmetic surgeon to explore some nip and tuck options, you go, girl.
My own curiosity prompted me to do a little research for you on the subject of rejuvenating nip and tuck cosmetic procedures for Boomer Chicks. I do hope you’ll enjoy my YouTube interview above with the very talented (and dashing) NYC/Toronto cosmetic surgeon, Dr. Trevor M. Born.