Warning: Some information may not be suitable for younger readers. (In other words, I’d hate to scare you before your time.)
Menopause Symptom #36: In menopause your face will change every day. That’s right: EVERY SINGLE DAY, YOU GET A NEW FACE. This is kinda cool, except it’s never the one you want.
I’m shocked that this isn’t on the list, but I suspect that if the authors of the “35 Symptoms” explained this startling phenomenon (and offered photographic documentation), there would be mass panic.
If you’ve been following the blog for long, you know that since February (All Dolled Up) and March (Tying Scarves) I have been trying to make peace with the–continually– new me. In lieu of peering too long into the mirror, I’ve been committed to looking more deeply at life, at relishing–or at least accepting–the wisdom of menopause.
Yeah, that was then. Now it’s April, and I WANT MY FACE BACK. What triggered my relapse into discontent? Oh, a couple things. Chief among them, my daughter’s sudden fascination with skin care ads and her running play-by-play: “That woman on TV looks good. Lemme see your eyes, Mom. Yep, you need that cream. Let’s go get it, let’s go get it.” (No more adult programming for you, missy. )
Second, and perhaps more alarming, was my dermatologist’s reaction when I visited her to check out a suspicious bump on my leg:
“No, that’s nothing, you get ’em with age” she said after a cursory glance at the red lump trying to take over my shin. With a family history of melanoma, I expected a talk about what to look for, etc. Nope. She was too focused on my forehead.
“I can do something about that,” she said, pointing above my eyes.
I was still concentrating on the whole deadly mole issue and hadn’t been looking in the mirror lately (see above), so I was a bit alarmed. “What? What’s up there?” I reached for my forehead. “Is it bad?”
She tilted her head, considering. “It’s advanced, but we can make some progress.”
“Some progress”? Only “some”? I began mentally planning my funeral and got as far as the music (John Barry) when she pulled out a syringe.
“Have you not considered this before?” she asked.
“BOTOX. It’s terrific. I do it to myself!” She pulled back her bangs. “Look at my forehead.”
Torn between relief and…not relief…I had to admit she won the forehead contest, but still I raised my (sagging) chin confidently. “I don’t want BOTOX. I want to age naturally.” Unfortunately, I followed that immediately with, “How much does it cost?”
She named a sum that almost exactly matchesour food budget for two weeks–for each syringe, and then mentioned that I might need several, one each on various “trouble” areas. No way can I afford that, so I declined and prepared to leave.
“Oh, don’t go!” She looked worried. “We can work something out. Honestly, I want to do this for you. Sometimes I do trades. What is it you do for a living?”
“I write romance novels.”
“Oh.” She was silent for a moment, exchanged a glance with her nurse and then brightened. “Well, you can give me a book.”
“They sell for 4.75 at Wal-Mart. ”
“Hmm.” She studied me some more. “Listen, when my friends really need it, I do it for free.” She looked touchingly sympathetic–and so did her nurse–as they left the room. “Think about it,” she called over her shoulder. “Oh, and I don’t do Restalayne, but I’m sure you can find someone who’ll work out a good price.”
Well, of course they will, BECAUSE I AM OBVIOUSLY A DESPERATE CASE. When your dermatologist is more concerned about your wrinkles than your melanoma risk factors it is clearly time to a.) get a new dermatologist and a subscription to Crone magazine, or b.) begin researching wrinkle treatments.
Stay tuned for an account of The Galvanic Spa. Guaranteed to erase age spots, soften deep lines and restore skin elasticity. It was only as expensive as one-and-a-half week’s worth of groceries.
Can anyone post a good recipe for beans and rice?