Rachel: There’s that moment in every woman’s life when she comes to the harsh realization that time is indeed marching on… across her face. My moment came crashing down on me this week like a Wile E Coyote anvil. It’s happening, people. I am losing the battle with gravity. I had already conceded the win to gravity in the battle with my ass. I was hoping it would give me a small reprieve when it came to my face. Not so much. In fact, its assault on my body is ruthless and unrelenting. I’m pretty sure I’m going to wake up any day now and find 75% of my skin around my ankles.
Oh it’s not that I haven’t noticed any signs of aging – I’m not that naive or blind – but maybe I’ve been in denial about what is truly happening north of my neck. And maybe that lovely girl blowing my hair dry last week – the one that told me I looked a decade-plus younger than I am – was just fishing for a better tip. But my visit to the esthetician for a facial woke me from my Cybil-Shepherd-with-a-filtered-lens dream. Who knew that when I purchased that deal on Living Social that I was getting a discount on bad news?
I thought the worst part of my visit was going to be the 40 minutes I had to wait because the “computer” screwed up their schedule. (What did we blame for our disorganization before computers?) Oh, how wrong I was. As I finally settled in for some TLC for my visage, my esthetician started the requisite “Let’s see what we have here.” overview. You know when they take the 1000x’s magnifier and tsk tsk you as your skin rats you out for of all the bad things you’ve ever done to it. Yeah yeah, I know. Sun damage on my nose. Lines on my lips from too many years of smoking (For the record, I’m 6 years nicotine- free). And yes, I still count glasses of wine as part of my required fluid intake so I expected to hear about dehydration and the importance of drinking water. But I didn’t expect to hear, “Oh, we’ve got some loose skin here.” as she ran her fingers over my cheeks. I’ll be honest, I’m sure she used more professional language than that, but that’s what I heard, and that’s all I heard, as visions of Droopy Dog danced around my head. Gravity’s now turned its attention to my cheeks. Bastard.
But the steam and the aromatherapy and the cleansing lulled me back into denial. That is until the beating began… That’s right, she starting slapping at my cheeks as if to scare them into submission. Turtle it right back up into tautness. Begone you jowls from Hell! I’m pretty sure I looked a lot like this. It was alarming. It was unsettling. It was amazing! I couldn’t believe it. I actually looked like a younger version of myself as I walked out that door into the bright Florida sunshine. Take that, gravity! I am a facial ninja and I have beaten you at your own game!
But then… morning came. And whilst I slept, secure in my victory, gravity snuck in under cover of night and undid all the do. Yes, I woke to find the sag once again. This time, I couldn’t ignore it. There it was, mocking me. Using the shadows from the overhead lights as a weapon of mass destruction of my confidence. I know I shouldn’t be so vain with all that is going on in the world. Blah blah blah… But you know what, I’m mad. I’m mad as hell and I’m not gonna take it anymore!
That’s right, gravity. I’m coming for you with my weapon of mass destruction and thy name is face yoga! You heard me. I saw Ranjana Khan on Real Housewives of New York and she looks amazing. And she looks amazing because of face yoga. And probably some very expensive facial products, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s my turn now! I’m gonna fish pucker my face back ten years! I’m gonna yawn with such exaggeration that people are going to call me the Marty McFly of dewlaps! Oh it’s happening… just as soon as I figure out exactly how it works. In the meantime, I think I’ll drink some water…