The Downward Spiral

This getting old stuff sucks. I made it to 53 looking pretty damn good and wrinkle free. For some reason, 53 seemed the magical number that turned it all to hell.  I would like to say I have learned to be okay with aging, but I am not. I am still stuck in the "shock and awe" whenever I look in the mirror. Where the fuck are my eyebrows? I look at my Facebook profile photo from 5 years ago and I see dark, full eyebrows. I look in the mirror today and I see scraggly light brown lines, shot through with the occasional dark hair. So pale I now pencil them in. I used to laugh at women who did that. Karma is a bitch.
When doing my eye make up, it never really looks right anymore. What has changed? Well, for starters, my eyelashes. They are now so light colored, they've all but disappeared. This poses a major problem, what shade of eyeshadow goes with silver eyelashes? When you figure it out, send me an email. Also, when you find a mascara that doesn't flake or smudge, give me a jingle. Now my choices are, a) invisible eyelashes or b) flakes of black looking like dirt on my cheeks by mid afternoon. You pick. I constantly find myself wiping the corners of my eyes thinking my makeup has smudged only to find out my eyes have shadows. Shadows that don't come from Maybelline. I have come to the conclusion that its the eyes that really age a woman.
 Old eyes. You know what I mean, at least you do if you are over 55. Your eyes themselves just look tired. Where's the sparkle?  Doesn't help that the thin skin surrounding them now has "laugh lines", no one is fucking smiling when they discover that, believe me. Retinol might slow the march of time, but nothing short of a big needle full of botox will make them straighten up. Speaking of that, I was watching a tv show the other night and found myself paying more attention to the forehead of the actress rather than the words she was speaking. Her forehead never moved, no up, no down, no wrinkles. Just this expanse of immoveable skin. In fact nothing on her face moved from her nose up. Robotic, too weird.  Once you start noticing shit like this,all media involving women over 50 is ruined for you. All you notice is who's had what done, does it look believable or was it an incredibly bad job?
Looking up, where's my hair? I've always had fine hair, but I've always had hair. I've never given up on having thick hair and the shit I'm shellacking and puttying my hair with is seeming to take about half of it with it down the drain when I shampoo. Now I have a choice to make, crummy, thin hair or bald spots?
Looking down, the girls have gone south. Never thought it would happen to me. As recently as last spring, the mammogram technician congratulated me on my still perky breasts. However when I look in the mirror, they seem sadly at half mast, they're still there, just lower. I guess this isn't something to be complained about. My bustier friends admit when on their backs, their boobs are usually in their armpits.
My hands, my beautiful hands. Now they are these weird, spidery wrinkled things. Buttery lotion just turns them into slippery, weird, spidery wrinkled things.
From the waist down, its just sad. I guess I could give up all the things I like to eat, devote myself to the anorexic diets and manic exercise of some of the crazy old ladies I know, but I know in my heart, its not for me. Give me liberty and put some onion rings on the side!
I guess I'm in the transition phase. Maybe I will crystallize at the age of 60 and just stay static. At that point will come acceptance. I know I won't become one of those injected, filled, nipped and tucked bionic women who simply look like weird old women who wanted desperately to stay youthful. Who knows? Maybe I will even quit coloring my hair. Who knows what color it is now? I haven't known since I was 16. I'm pretty sure it will be some shade of gray.Who knows? Maybe I will make a spectacular "gray-hair".  I don't want to find out just yet.