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Carol Perkins: Keeping up appearances is hard work

Next previous Carol Perkins article: Carol Perkins: Parents, Grandkids, and Grandparents

By Carol Perkins

Is that my arm? It doesn't resemble the arm I had twenty years ago. I don't think I had noticed it until recently because I never wear sleeveless shirts and avoid examining my arms, neck, and other sagging parts of the body. That arm and the one that goes with it could be the arms of an alligator. Creams and lotions won't smooth alligator arms.

Age does a number on all of us, but some people age better than others. My mother's skin looks like a woman in her sixties, which is the age of which I'm hanging on to a few more months, so you can do the math how old she might be. Her face is smooth, and she credits Johnson Baby Lotion with keeping it that way. I must be too lazy to use products because I don't seem to get around to it. I don't get around to much of anything anymore. Not because I don't want menial jobs completed; I just don't want to do them. Putting on lotion is a job.


Age does a number on all of us, but some people age better than others. My mother's skin looks like a woman in her sixties, which is the age of which I'm hanging on to a few more months, so you can do the math how old she might be. Her face is smooth, and she credits Johnson Baby Lotion with keeping it that way. I must be too lazy to use products because I don't seem to get around to it. I don't get around to much of anything anymore. Not because I don't want menial jobs completed; I just don't want to do them. Putting on lotion is a job.

Another "job" is tying my shoes. Bending over for the right shoe works well, but it is the left one I can't reach. I heard one of the tennis shoe companies is coming out with self-tying shoes. Would that require a remote control? Put a foot in a shoe and press "tie?" The ultimate insult as to one's laziness or level of intelligence used to be the saying, "He can't tie his own shoes." I am almost to that point. I blame it on my bad hip/stiff knee, but it could be from too much "me" between my middle and the floor.

Just "Let It Go" some of my friends say when I talk about my roots. That would be the roots of my dyed hair. Within two weeks of a dye job, those white roots are visible no matter how I comb to the left or right to hide them. I am not going to dye my hair anymore, no matter how much it costs to keep these roots colored. That was a "job" that left some dye on the bathroom door (I never figured that one out) and all over the sink. I have every apparatus available to cover up those roots, but my alligator arms only reach so far. When the wind blows, the roots show.

"I didn't know you were so gray," Guy said one windy day when we walked down our street, and my hair was blowing back.

"It's time for a color if you are noticing," I said. He only notices my hair if I end up with too much red. I like red.

Another task I consider a "job" is putting on make-up. Even as a young girl, I found this tedious, mainly because I never knew how to get myself to look any better with it than without. However, I'm sure others would notice the difference. Buying cosmetics comes easily for most of us, but using them does not. Going through a nightly facial routine, other than washing my face, is a job. If I had a facial chair and someone to apply all the products, then I would not mind the process. Guy refuses. Having a facial is a treat; giving one to myself is a chore.

It may be age or it may be that I've grown lazy, but what was once important or necessary has become less so with age. Does that mean in another decade I will wear only slip-on shoes, let my hair go white, and forget about make-up? I think I'm almost there.


This story was posted on 2016-03-30 10:41:32
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