Ah Vanity-

Thy name is Dora..

So, I turned 46 last month.. I have never generally been bothered in the least by birthdays. 16 was great, got that passport to freedom- car keys. 18- passport to beer and the right to vote! 21, hard liquor and credit cards.. But those birthdays that seem to bother other people- never much cared. 30? Whatever.. I was busy. Nice party, lots of good natured jokes and found out I was pregnant with Miss Thing the following day. Drama, yes, but of the happy sort. 35? Well the Hurricane spat forth upon the universe the week before, so again, whatever -other things to do.. 40? Didn’t care in the least. Nice dinner, excellent wine, but again no drama. 45? See 40.. but I got excellent, excellent jewelry.

46? That one slammed me right upside the head. Now I fully admit I can be a vain bitch. I do not depart the house unless I can not be mortified if I actually see someone I know. When I was working full time this indeed meant a proper suit or such, proper hair and makeup. These days, unless I have a meeting it means clean jeans a civilized top and good basic grooming. Don’t laugh, I see what some people stroll out of the house in folks.. Truly mortifying.

The vanity? I looked in the mirror and wondered who this woman looking back at me these days is. I’ll grant you, I’m not saying I suddenly look like the bride of Frankenstein or some such. I just look and wonder what the hell happened here. One of my nasty little secrets happens to be that yours truly does tend to make with the preventive maintenance in a major way. Sunscreen, moisturizer, checking in with the dermatologist often. OK so the good doctor is more a fear of cancer- I was the major sun bunny before we knew it was bad for you, spent every summer of my childhood on the outer banks or on the tennis court or at the farm- all sans sunscreen- and I have a family history of melanoma. I digress, as usual.

My Mamma was a stunning woman. The most repeated comment at Mamma’s memorial was “she was the most beautiful woman I ever knew” - but to her credit, those kind souls appended the statement with “Inside and out”.. I grew up with a very smart woman that spent her entire life being judged by her looks. I often wonder what her life would have been like had she been born plain. But in the time and place she was born, she managed right well for herself. But in spite of, or because of that fact, I was always expected to present myself properly.

So here I sit, at 46.. it could be worse. I got lucky in the big game of genetic lotto- I had good looking parents. But for the first time in my life, I want to go back.. Just a couple of years, doesn’t seem so much to ask.. Boots jokingly asked me the other day if I’d ever go under the knife. Wow- what a fucking hypocrite am I? Until last month I’d have said no way in hell.. Would I do scary Janice Dickerson shit? No way in hell. A wee bit of something- perhaps I would. More like Catherine Deneuve or Michelle Pfeiffer- those guys were freaking geniuses..

Ok- so the why to the problem as a whole? As stated- I’m a hypocrite. I thought I spent most of my life trying to be judged on my brains. I broke my grandmother’s heart and Mamma’s by bailing on my coming out in a very rude (in retrospect) way. But I have used the sorta pretty as a weapon. I’ve blindsided people that were just expecting some dumb debutante. I’ll qualify that- not in some trashy way people.. Folks just sometimes make stupid assumptions- it’s not necessarily incumbent upon me to disabuse them until I care to so, now is it?

Guess I’ll just let nature take it’s course. Aided by some really good sunscreen and moisturizer..