“I put my arm into my jacket, and out came my mother’s hand!”
Hi, Girlfriends and Guy friends,
These words were said by my sister-in-law, Jane, approximately 20 years ago. I remember belly laughing with her as we pretended to see our mother’s hand emerge from the sleeve of our clothing. It was easy to laugh back then. Wrinkles had not yet become a reality. I had 40-something hands and an estrogen balance to keep it that way for a few more years.
But now, in 2017, my skin is 20 years older. Here is a photo of my 60 year-old hand with henna application at our son’s pre-wedding Bollywood party. Yes, the party was a BLAST!
Jane’s comment still makes me smile, but the words are now MY TRUTH. It is MY Mother’s hand that pops out of my sleeve. No amount of lotion or cream will change that. Ever. Like FOREVER. Since puberty my body has been slowly losing it’s Elastin- that bouncy, slinky-like, protein in the dermis, that gives skin that boing-boing when pinched.
And guess what, girlfriends. I’m okay with my Wrinkles. They are a part of who I am. The Real me. I’m not young anymore.
Today is my 60th birthday! Woot-woot!
When I first began writing this August 21st post, I contemplated discarding the “Wrinkle” topic and substituting a more joyful and upbeat topic. I wondered if you, my readers, would prefer reading about the celebratory party that Johnny threw for me at our family lake cottage (yay!), and learn of all the family and friends who attended (sigh!), and salivate as I tell of the delicious king crab, pulled pork, elote, we savored (yum!), or share other sentimental thingy’s that happened.
But then I thought… nah. I’ll share photos from the party, but commemorate my 60th with a topic we will all have in common (eventually).
So here’s to my Wrinkles. Every one of you tells a story.
I lift a glass of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay with Wrinkled hand in your honor!
I must really like Wrinkles, because as a teen I actually accelerated the aging of my pink skin. Here is how it happened. Girlfriends, you may relate to this!
It was June of 1971 when I snuck into the bathroom of our family lake cottage. My guilty heart pounded as I exited, hiding the bottle of Iodine.
With scientific precision I squeezed 10 orange drops into the baby oil bottle.
I knew this potion would bring my longed-for tan. Besides, my community of pre-teen professionals had promised! I dutifully followed my girlfriends’ advice optimistically dreaming about the results the orange oil would bring.
My. Eventual. Tan.
Afternoons were spent lying on the dock, baking my fair skin in the sun till I was freckled and a slightly darker version of pink.
Oh. And, girlfriends, you KNOW my what my Ultimate-Teen-Girl-Logic-Goal was?
Tan skinned girls attract all the guys at the beach. This is a fact. (If you are 14.)
This was the beginning of my aging process. In an attempt to appear more attractive, more youthful, I (ironically) and purposely hastened the aging of my body….all for boys I never met, and was too shy to talk to!
(I wonder if the girls from Generation Z still concoct the baby oil and iodine tanning balm?)
Friends, I could go on and on with this topic of Wrinkles…but since I have a party to attend, I am going to skip over all the rest of the hot topics related to Wrinkles. For instance:
I could have shocked you with the story of a young girl receiving Botox injections at the AGE OF 8! (Mother, really?! What is wrong with you?!)
The following tribute to “Wrinkles” was written by a 92 year-old beauty named Wanda Goins. I am grateful for gaining permission from her caregiver, Kathryn Wilson, to post it. Kathryn emphatically stated “Yes, please share the poem! Wanda passed into eternity last February and would have felt honored to have it shared.”
The Gift Wrap and the Jewel
“I looked in the mirror, and what did I see?
But a little old lady, peering back at me.
With bags and sags and wrinkles, and wispy white hair
And I asked my reflection, how did you get there?
You once were straight and vigorous, and now you’re stooped and weak
When I tried so hard to stop you, from becoming an antique.
My reflection’s eyes twinkled, and she solemnly replied
You’re looking at the gift wrap and not the jewel inside.
A living gem and precious, of unimagined worth
Unique and true, the real you, the only you on earth.
The years that spoil your gift wrap, with other things more cruel
Should purify, and strengthen, and polish up that jewel.
So focus your attention on the inside, not the out
On being kinder, wiser, more content and more devout.
Then, when your gift wrap is tipped away, your jewel will be set free
To radiate God’s glory, throughout eternity.”
Wanda’s words made my eyes start leaking… trickling down onto my Wrinkled 60 year-old smile.