In which we go on a Tour of The Valleys
Updated: May 3, 2020
As I approach 35, I try to welcome two new companions into my life that will be a part of me (and my face) forever...
The sun is shining gloriously as we walk through the lush valley. All is peaceful apart from the sound of birds singing gayly overhead, gliding easily with the gentle breeze that does not touch us in the depths of the protected lowlands. A new mother watches contentedly over her little lambs, wobbly, as they take their first steps to drink warm milk from her teats. A gentle bleat escapes the throat of the smallest, as he nuzzles with his siblings into the warmth of his mothers body. A slow trickling stream runs along the floor of the valley. It's crystal clear waters skimming the smooth pebbles with minnows darting amongst them. No, we are not rambling through the lavish green terrain of Exmoor National Park. We are wedged deep in the furrows of my brow!
I don't think the above picture really allows you to appreciate the depths of these crevices, but, trust me, these wrinkles make the Grand Canyon look like A-Cup cleavage! There are two main ones up there that are visible even when my forehead is relaxed. The short, deep one at the top I have named Bertie and the longer, shallower one above my eyebrows is called Arnold. I thought that if I could humanise them, maybe they wouldn't be so threatening to me?
Now, don't get me wrong: the phrase "the only thing worse that getting old, is not gettin old" is not lost on me. Obviously, in many ways the opportunity to get old should be appreciated. Many people, unfortunately, will never have that chance. So, of course, I should consider myself lucky in that respect. But, really! Why must this happen? Why? I asked a friend a few months ago whether she thought the wrinkles on my forehead were especially prominent for someone of my age? She replied "Oh I hadn't even noticed those. I should worry more about the ones on your neck!" Cue much laughter from the both of us. After all, she turned 60 last birthday, so I already have one over on her! Ha!
Would I ever consider botox on these furrows? I'm not sure I would. For one, I have to prioritise feeding my children over my own need to have sharp implements jabbed into my face in the name of vanity. I also think it takes a huge amount of trust in the person performing the procedure not to end up looking like a cat, or a cartoon, or someone maimed in a terrible accident involving a low swinging anvil! Really, it's not a big deal. The fact that I have dedicated a whole Blog post to the matter surely supports this? Plus, I look pretty good with a fringe anyway, so Bertie and Arnold will rarely have to see the light of day. (This premise also works regarding unruly eyebrows. Of which I have, not just one, but two. It's so liberating not having to pluck them all the time. Unless they start creeping down to join forces with my sideburns and then the lawnmower is brought out from the shed for a ceremonious trim!) Hurrah for ageing and all the new experiences it brings!
What are your biggest concerns about ageing, or are you lucky enough to have skin as smooth as a baby's bottom? Leave me a comment below.
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