Slathering the grey cream all over my face, I give myself a facial that will turn green on contact. A goolie look I must admit. All to make my lines, sags and wrinkles disappear from this 59-year-old facade. Can I be so naive? Yes, because there was a promise in the bottle, a resound commitment of improvement. I have to give it a try because of all the years of damage and neglect etched all over my face. I look into the mirror and can make out the cheek bones I used to have, the forehead lines and the mess under my eyes that are visible under the mask. In 40 minutes, I will wash it off and be beautiful. They said so. I guess this is called a “beauty routine.” It’s an exercise that continues to disappoint. My face will always be my face.
I’m not dissatisfied with my looks. With each line and wrinkle, I’ve thanked God for letting me grow old, accepting the consequences. I’m more than a pretty face. As my weight has increase, my face has gotten bigger too. Everything is more pronounced. The lines where my nose meets my forehead are covered with my glasses thankfully. A scarf can stylishly drape over the neck lines and keeping a straight face and not scrunching may help to eliminate new lines. And maybe win poker games too. Moving into my senior years has me wanting to erase mistakes; personal, professional, and facial mistakes. Time to atone with toner.
After I rinse the mask, I look in the mirror and remember what I used to look like. I remember a pretty girl with perfect skin and bright eyes. She was carefree and thought she’d be 20 years old forever. Years of sun damage, stress and even some sadness has reinvented her. I really do love myself for who I am today. All my experience and wrinkles have an important reason, waiting up for the kids to come home, working overtime, or caring for a sick child. My face tells a story of someone who has lived a sometimes hard as well as comfortable life. My journey has been grand and exciting, interrupted by moments of chaos and confusion. It’s written all over my face. And you can’t put that in a bottle.
1 thought on “The Mask”
Love this! Dead on.