I slather Oil of Olay on my slightly wrinkled face. I’m fair complected, and my eyes are striking. I want so badly to look like Marilyn Monroe, but I’m a Bette Davis. As my fingers make delicate circular motions, the tiny wrinkles are quenched with precious fluid. They seem to disappear. I ponder my image in the bathroom mirror and grin. Laugh lines crinkle around my eyes, but I don’t care. The luminescence in my baby blues won’t be extinguished. Even with the passing of time.
I apply a dollop of eye cream on the translucent skin under the eye and then under the eyebrow. I notice that my brows are lightening with age. Someday, they’ll disappear entirely. My eye cream is nothing magical. There’s no placenta, seaweed extract or anything exotic. I like simple. A pure cream that will fill in the little lines and hold the tiniest bit of concealer under my eyes. I need to hide those Gucci bags that sometimes appear, for God’s sake.
My grin doesn’t falter as I trace my fingers across my cheekbones. I take comfort in my skin, though marred by time and flecked with age spots. I touch the Marilyn Freckle between my right nostril and the apple of my cheek. I chuckle because, it is a natural beauty mark. Some women want it so badly, they have it permanently tattooed on their faces. Mine, just comes naturally.
I’m blessed with so many “Angel Kisses”. I told my children when they were young, that angels kissed their cheeks, arms, and legs while they slept. How else could one explain all those little flecks of melanin on the skin? They’d laugh and roll their eyes at me, of course.
I place the foam tip applicator on the skin under my eye. It provides a small amount of coverage for the dark circles that sometimes appear. Inserting the applicator back in the tube and grabbing a tad more on the tip, I add a few dots of it around my nostrils. Not to hide any flaws, but to shade the broken capillaries that have sprouted due to my bouts with alcohol abuse.
Next comes the wild hued eyeliner. What color will it be? Purple, green, blue, gold, hmmmmmm? I think purple will work. Liquid, dark, and sensuous. Jet black mascara is a must. Strange color I know, for a blonde haired and blue eyed bombshell. As my Adam Boy continually points out, I’m anything but conventional. So Jet black mascara it must be.
Wrinkles, age spots and a myraid of other flaws be damned! I’ve come to realize that life is so much better with a few miles under the hood, and lines on my face. It sure the hell beats being 20 years old any day. As long I don’t look like a truck ran over my face, I’m doing just fine.