My name is Mir, and I am 38 years old.
I don’t mind being 38. Oh, sure, 36 was kind of a banner year, and 37 was pretty good, too, and 38 has been kind of a challenge for various reasons (none of them age-related, actually), but I’m not one of those people who’s planning to lie about her age.
[As a joke, we once told Monkey that I’m 29 now, forever. He was confused and we explained how some women just stop at 29, and he thought this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, and in true Aspie this-is-now-my-truth fashion now he never misses an opportunity to volunteer that MY MOM IS ONLY 29, SHE IS SO YOUNG, which was funny at first, but now if anyone actually believes him (not that I think they would) it puts me into Teen Mom territory, which is a whole ‘nother issue altogether.]
On the whole, I am happy to be 38. There are plenty of things to recommend it, actually. My life and my SELF are very different now than they were, say, 2 or 5 or 10 years ago, and that’s okay with me.
I had a whole discussion with Karen when she took so many beautiful photos of me last month about how age has changed my face in ways that I really like. For one thing, I’ve had acne my entire adult life, and it was only when I gave up wheat last year that I finally learned what life is like without zits. (It’s lovely, by the way.) Furthermore, with age has come some minor structural changes; I have dimples, now, which I think I didn’t used to have. Or they weren’t as obvious. They’re not super-prominent, but they are small dimples, nonetheless. I like them. Also—and I may have my woman card revoked for this one—I happen to LIKE the little wrinkles around my eyes. They flex and crinkle when I laugh, and I consider them a sign of a happy life.
I preface what I’m about to say next with all of this because I want it to be clear that I am not having a problem with AGING. I’m fine with growing older, and even with some of the changes that come along with it. I have no desire to be young again. I’m happy being the age I am.
Now—all of that said—I do have a couple of bones to pick with 38.
First (and I know I’ve talked about this before), I have had a love/hate relationship with my hair my entire life, as I think most women with thick, curly hair do. I have grown it long and cut it short. I have learned to embrace the curl and I have ironed it flat. And it wasn’t until I was well into my 30s that I kind of made peace with it and found a great stylist and FINALLY said, “This is my hair and I almost kind of like it.”
At which point half of it immediately turned white just to screw with me.
The day will come when I’m ready to embrace the salt-and-pepper, I think. BUT TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY. And my natural hair color is only about half a shade away from black. And because I am now fully embracing a really healthy diet, my hair grows really, really fast. And it’s well-documented here that I have bad luck with home hair color and cheap stylists, so I have someone AWESOME who colors my hair, now, but I only go to see her about twice a year because I’d rather not have to sell one of the kids to support my coloring habit.
So most of my life is spent with bad roots, and really, now, is it any wonder that I enjoy spending most of my time in the comfort and safety and seclusion of my own home, where it is not glaringly obvious that I am cheap and gray?
That’s the first not-my-favorite-thing about being 38.
The second issue I have with my current age is also hair-related, and maybe it has less to do with my age and more to do with having had a hysterectomy six years ago, but whatever.
[Side note: I struggled with hormone replacement for years and years and years post-hyst, because it turns out that it’s hard to regulate fake hormones. WHO KNEW? And hormones are necessary to keeping my bones from crumbling into dust, and also necessary to keep me from becoming a raging lunatic. And this, too, is well-documented here—the problems finding the right dosage, the difficulties getting the pharmacy to fill my prescription, etc.]
Over the years I have used three different hormone patches, two different topical hormone gels, an oral hormone supplement, and a partridge in a pear tree. (Note: Bird poop is not particularly estrogen-rich.) At the current time I am feeling probably the best I’ve felt since my surgery, and I am using an estrogen supplement that also contains a little testosterone.
Yes, testosterone. Just a little! Not enough to make me sprout a penis, or anything, but enough to give me just a wee bit of energy that seemed to be misplaced along with my missing uterus. (And by “energy” I of course mean “sex drive” and Dad, hi, I see something really shiny OVER THERE you should go check out.) All is (relatively) well in hormone-land, now, except that one of the side effects of testosterone is hair growth.
Look; I had the occasional rogue chin hair well before I started this particular hormone supplement. I am well aware that age brings this particular unexpected “gift” along with it, and sure, I’ve had many the commiserating conversation with my girlfriends about how no one ever told us that middle age would mean spending so much quality time with our tweezers. On the other hand, I remember my grandmother being completely fuzzy like a peach, so I rather suspected that old(er) age would bring with it a bit of an increase in that downy facial hair so many women end up with.
But I am not talking about “downy” or “fuzz” here. I am talking about black hair the diameter of pipe cleaners. I’m talking about the now-regular experience of standing in my bathroom in the early morning, blearily brushing my teeth, and glancing in the mirror and going to brush a piece of lint off of my chin only to discover that it’s an inch-long black hair jutting straight out from my skin and OH MY GOD WHERE DID THAT COME FROM AND HOW DID I NOT SEE IT BEFORE??
On this last trip the fancy-schmancy hotel had a lighted magnifying mirror in the bathroom and IT WAS HORRIFYING. I mean, I try to stay on top of hair removal as best I can, but on a lark I turned the light on one night and discovered that I had a full goatee. HOW HAD I NOT KNOWN?
I could tell you the hours I’ve wasted, since, debating with myself over whether I should run out and buy one of those mirrors immediately OR whether ignorance is bliss. I haven’t decided yet but in the meantime I am spending a lot of time cupping my hand over my chin in a faux-contemplative pose, hoping that it conveys “I’m a deep thinker” rather than “crap I’m old and growing a beard.”
This all leaves me with just one question, of course: Why aren’t the chin hairs gray, at least?
38, it’s a low, low blow. And I am sitting here, hair in a ponytail (all the better to disguise my roots, my dear), chin resting in my cupped hand, glaring at you.
And this is why I have, along with a small tube of toothpaste and a thing of deodorant (because Old also means Forgetful and damn if I haven’t shown up at work un-brushed and un-pit-de-stinked) a pair of tweezers. Otherwise I will sit here, gazing thoughtfully at my computer screen and running my finger oooover and ooooover and ooooover my chin and, when inevitably I find something (or think I do) trying in vain to remove it with my fingernails and a lot of muttered cussing. Isn’t aging FUN?
Now, ask me about how my knees feel…
I feel your pain. Not only am I sending my colorist’s not-yet-born children to college, I’m also providing a significant lifestyle upgrade to the woman who waxes my eyebrows. And mustache.
Take my word for it – quit whining and buy the mirror. 48 is a lower blow, even without a hysterectomy!
at least you don’t get back hair as you get older. age, thy name is sasquatch.
I so feel your pain. I have had the joy of chin hair since I was in my early twenties, pre-children even. Started out as just a couple and now at almost 43 and two kids later I could grow a way better goatee then Brad Pitt. ;)
I have the same issue about the darn things appearing and growing like weeds overnight! I am seriously considering lazer hair removal as I can’t keep up by plucking or even shaving, yes I have broken down and shaved when it was an emergency. I told my husband I wanted lazer hair removal for my birthday this May. I will let you know if it happens and then how well it works. Good luck.
My grandmother had very, very few gray hairs as she aged. She was an amazing and kind woman. I’m hoping to take after her – at least hair-wise :)
As a woman who is 39 and still has her uterus, I’m the bearded lady. I definitely think it’s the worst part of aging up until this point.
Once again with the morning funny. Thanks Mir. I happen to think you look awesome for 29 and 38, so there. Also, Frederick Fekkai home color. No roots. No staying home. In fact, your hair will beg you to take it out, to flounce it. To make everyone say “Oh, Mir, you have such pretty, pretty hair…on your head!”
I’ve recently noticed that I don’t spring up from sleeping in contorted positions anymore. My age 37 motto is going to be “Careful, your back might freeze in the position.”
Merciful heavens. I only wish half my head was white. I’d let it all grow out. Mine is a steely gray, combined with the red turning a dull brown over the years. Miss Clairol makes a lovely shade of auburn.
And chin hairs! Oy vey! If you figure that one out, let me know?
So I’m on 32 and have the looking in a mirror and suddenly seeing the goatee and not sure how I haven’t seen it every other morning for the last week when I regularly tweeze – its like an overnight growth burst or something…
Yeah, and just wait until the little bumps start appearing in random places all over your body (I mean behind your knees?). Aging is such fun.
Hey, could be worse. I have that whole “Hello, mystery inch-long hair. How long have you been waiting for me to notice you?” problem and I’m only 24. I’ll have to remember to ask about the testosterone-included version of hormones after the age-40 hysterectomy that runs in my family.. Sounds like it’s part of my genetic smoothie.
Tweezers and fingernail clippers: the two most useful things you can carry in your purse. (Seriously, try the fingernail clippers. Like having scissors everywhere you go, except they can get through airport security.)
I soooo hear this one: the first sign of aging I saw was that my eyebrows were trying to merge with my eyelashes… and my hairline. And I’ve got amazing peach fuzz sideburns. Luckily, they’re only peach fuzz for now.
I keep telling myself it’s better than the alternatives!
my advice, sell one of the kids and go have laser hair removal. it only works on the black hairs, once they turn white you are stuck with them for life. um, not that i know anything about that. nope. not me. uh-uh.
As a 38 year old too, this post literally made me laugh out loud! :) But, I still wouldn’t trade my life today for my life in my 20’s….gray hair, chin hairs and all.
I just call these the maintenence years. It’s not so much the expense as it is the time required to get regular pedicures (fixing heels so rough they actually ruin stockings within minutes if I go without the pedicure), hair foils, and various facial regimes. And this for a normal Midwestern woman, no botox or Hollyweird exercise obsessions included! As for the stronger-than-nails black facial hairs, I can definitely relate. They seem to go from zero to an inch within seconds. Ah, yes, being the “fairer sex” does have its moments. Which makes willingness to pluck each other’s chin hairs in the nursing home the true test of friendship!
Wait, I just have to say hi to Nelson’s mama. I am also the mama to a Nelson and I’ve never met another Nelson’s Mama. My Nelson is almost 9 years old. Nelson is my mother’s maiden name.
I am so glad to hear it’s not just me! Once I was chatting with a friend of mine about this issue, and I said I was so glad those pesky rogue hairs were turning gray so they weren’t so visible. He said, “They glint in the sunlight you know. I’m telling you THEY GLINT IN THE SUNLIGHT.” :o
‘Scuse me, I gotta go tweeze now.
Bob, you made me lol. I don’t think my husband is in angst(nor am I) regarding his back hair. My facial hair however is taking up way too much time! Also, ever notice how they just show up when you flip down the vanity mirror in the car to do that last check before you go in somewhere. What are you supposed to do? Tweeze in the school parking lot?
Heh. Oh, I feel your pain. My tweezers and I, we are frenemies. I’m glad they work, but I hate that I need them so much.
I looked a little more closely in the mirror than usual and found a lovely, dark brown hair that any man would be more than pleased to have in his moustache sitting there proudly amongst the less dreadful hairs. How long it was there is anyone’s guess.
Also, embrace 38. Even with its chin hairs it is way more fun than 53 with its popcorn popping knees and wonky back. I still wouldn’t be in my twenties again, though.
OMG I just snorted iced tea up my nose. But not because I can relate or anything….
I am another one who could grow a better goatee than Brad Pitt. I have resorted to daily shaving with an electric razor and I still have a five o’clock shadow. If I could afford the laser removal I would do it in a heartbeat. I’ve tried waxing and the other hair removal ideas, nothing works.
So I’m just a wee babe who actually *is* 29, but my husband is older. One thing I’ve noticed that ticks me off? He’s getting better looking as he gets older. I can tell when he hits 40, he’s going to look a million times hotter than he did at 25. I kind of hate him for it.
OMG! I laughed so hard. I’m 38 with hair the same color as yours. Just yesterday I was staring in the mirror shocked by the amount of gray I was finding. My hair is straight and fine but that gray stuff is wiry and likes to stand straight up! Hmmm…whatever shall I do I think, stroking my chin and feeling yet another thick, black hair poking out of my chin. Must go find tweezers. I feel your pain. : )
Oh Mir, I’m 24 and puberty gifted me with the pipe-cleaner, jet black chin hairs. I’ve got a gray streak in my almost black hair courtesy of junior year in high school, too. I feel your pain!
I am 50 and have been on testosterone supplementation for a couple of years, for some reason my body just stopped making it entirely . . . I guess because I need it I only have a few chinny-chin-chin hairs and I swear this is what they make rebar out of! Twang those things pull out like there is a tiny person inside my chin trying to pull back!
I don’t dye my hair, just too darn lazy.
Forget diamonds, tweezers are a woman’s best friend! Don’t leave home without them.
I’m on the cusp of 31 and have had increasingly more of the chin hairs popping up. I have a double whammy in that I have a rather prominent mole on the lower right side of my chin that is a hair factory (one at a time, but those suckers are sly and go all stealth until they’re a mile long!) – yum!
I’m a redhead, and have always been thankful for light body hair that meant I could get away without shaving for a wee bit longer than I probably should. And at 37, I’m just starting to get the odd gray hair at my temples (don’t hate me for the one good genetic gift I got from my Mom, who’s still brunette at 60). But I get copper-colored “hag hairs,” as I like to call them, with the same miracle overnight growth. And I have to say, when I *do* get a stark white hag hair poking out of my neck, that’s just adding insult to injury!!
I just pay for a waxer at the local mani-pedi place to wax my chin-neck area to get the black hairs every 2 weeks. Best $13 bucks I spend. It makes me much less self-conscious.
Sudden mustaches, rogue “skin tags” and my favorite, Crepe paper cleavage. Wtf?
I just about spewed Funyun crumbs all over my computer screen at your “faux-contemplative pose” paragraph, thankyouverymuch!
I have one lone mustache hair that seems to sprout overnight. It’s weird.
Hahahaha, awesome text, Mir. I’m at the dreaded 29 mark, it’s really scary. My only wayward hair is one on my nipple. Just the one, and I’m not sure if I’ll pluck it out. Maybe.
I’m not on hormone therapy and am blond. At forty the dark, course chin hairs became crazy. I went out and bought one of those mirrors. It’s a love-hate thing because, well, ick! But at least I don’t find myself in public with surprises anymore. If you decide to get one, the only brand to get is Floxite (they sell them at Bed, Bath & Beyond). It gives a great, bright, focused light. I gave away two other mirrors that were highly rated and less expensive on Amazon because they just weren’t meant for middle aged women with this problem.
Laughing so hard I’m crying. I’m 43 and had a hysterectomy in my 20’s so I can only relate to this.
Oh mir mir mir…I seldom actually LAUGH OUT LOUD, but this one…this one hit me squarely in the hairy chin and made me snort. I’m turning 40 next month…*sigh*…am calling the wax lady at the salon tomorrow to see what we can do…
it isn’t pretty here in hairy forty land…but I love who I am…I really do. I identified with this post big time.
Chew
Microwavable wax for facial hair removal. Seriously. It’s usually at your local drugstore. I like the Surgiwax brand. I like it because it gets the hairs you can see and the ones you can’t. Minutes worth of tweezing eliminated in one quick swipe.
My two cents.
Wow, I expected over-sharing, but her nipple???
I’ve had a good number of black chin hairs, but I assumed they were a result of having four babies.
Electrolysis… (spelling?) It works wonders. I had it done four years ago and never had to again.
I am NOT laughing…but only because I know kharma likes to listen in on my thoughts and 38 is not that far away for me. :) I just hope I can find the funny nearly as well as you do, dear.
Happy B-day. Enjoy
GET THE MIRROR! as a 30 year old german/russian girl who has been battling chin hairs for years,(fyi: pregnancy makes the chin hair situation much much worse as well)(you’d better be cute, little baby!!) knowledge may be bliss, but other people may comment. trying to be “nice”.
THAT is much more horrifying than the mirror. trust me on that one…
(and yes, emergency tweezers in the purse and/or at work are a HUGE necessity as well). :)
Try being in your teens and 20s and having chin hairs (and ones elsewhere they don’t belong)! It slowly got worse over the past several years, too, unfortunately, but I was finally (this year, right after I turned 30 in Dec.) diagnosed with PCOS (I don’t know why no one ever figured that one out before now, but that’s doctors for you). Thank GOD there’s a reason for it, though, right? I mean, I was beginning to worry that I was turning into a man, which, in some small, testosterone-laden woman way, I am, I suppose. My husband assures me that he loves me even with the chin-hairs that I have to deal with almost daily and the sideburns that began to come in last year. I can’t do bcps either, so I’m kind of just stuck with at least knowing WHY my face is looking more and more like a teenage boy going through puberty (with the acne, too. Mir, I feel all your pain on that one, but it ain’t goin’ away for me.)
Oh, grrrr!
here I am facing 58 two months from today, looking at my gray-white roots and looking for my tweezers! Just wait til you get cataracts and try to keep up wit the tweezing!!!
OMG – I am laughing so hard I am crying. I am 39 and have the hairs in other spots not needing mentioning, and MAN if they had hair remover for that, I would gladly pay. Mine started when I was pregnant with my first child. Kind of a shock at 21 to see a rogue black hair sproing outta your belly!! Trauma, I tell you!
I personally let my roots come in so I can see if I have any gray hairs. I don’t take my word for it because I like to lie to myself. I ask other people (friends, not strangers) if I have any gray. They tell me I don’t, so I color again. Basically, I check every 6 weeks or so to see if I can quit coloring my hair.
Wrinkles are not a sweat at all. I feel the same way. I got so excited when I realized I wrinkles I pointed it out to everyone I know, and yes even to strangers. I’ve earned every stinking one of my beautiful wrinkles and I’ll be dipped if I’m going to feel bad for being the age I am.
I’ve lived, laughed, loved, hated, adored, floundered, cried, and angst-ed about things. My wrinkles are my history in written form. I won’t for one moment forget or try to erase them. I’ve not had an easy life, but it’s mine. All 41, nearly 42, years of it. I won’t give that up.
As for the chin hairs, I joke with my husband about competing to grow the better goatee. I keep a razor in my shower and just trim them off every 3 days or so. I just thought that happened. I didn’t know it would be like Grizzly Adams without hormones running around. Ah well, Just another part of being spectacular.
Excellent choice Mir. You can do it. Lovely as you are, it will be easier. Tasteful gray is the sign of wisdom. Gray is a sign of perfection.
Consider this, the ONE good genetic trait I got was that at 41 I still have NO gray. NOT ONE. (Knocking on wood.) Everything else is falling apart in a major way, trust me on that one. But, big deal, EVERYONE dyes their hair, so the one place I get the pass, it doesn’t make a difference. BAH!
Laser Hair Removal (LHR)! As a woman of Hispanic/Irish decent (baby making machine right there I tell you!) Lighter skin, darker hair, bad combo for the facial hair situation. Got the LHR year before last, lower legs, pits, bikini area & face. Face & pits did best. Legs could use a couple more rounds & you can’t even tell the bikini area. But at 41, I’m not wearing a bikini anyway. (Been wearing board shorts since my 30s bc of bikini area, how’s that for TMI?) If you’re just doing your face, by all means save up for it, worth EVERY. DAMN. PENNY.
my eyesight was bad enough to need glasses while driving, but I generally left them off around the house. last year, we rented a house in which the master bthroom mirror was in a recess, so instead of being above the sink, it was nearly a foot behind it! this placed in in the no vision land between what my eye with near vision can see, and what my eye with far vision can see. I found this nifty 3x magnifying mirror with a suction cup, which I placed on the window of the bathroom, very nice as the window faced south and gets bright sunlight all day.
OMG. really. I knew I had one chin hair, plus the unibrow I’ve been plucking into submission all my life. but the mustache! no one told me i had a mustache. I just brought two girls through teenagerhood & can’t beleive neither of them found an opportunity to inform/embarass me with this info. & that chin hair? is really about 8, plus there’s some more under the chin.
NOW I’ve noticed these things are a reliable indicator of what point I’m at in my cycle: week 3 is spent vigilantly staring at myself in the mirror, noting black specks developing and judging how soon they will be long enough to be pulled. & still, I come home from being in a public place to discover half inch long hairs. that I swear were not there when I left the house.
Ugh, they’re suddenly an inch long out of nowhere, or too small for the tweezers so I obsessively poke them all day. And I was blaming my daughter for the rogue skin tags as I never had them until I was pregnant . . but I was 40 as well, so maybe I can’t blame her!
I’ve had the chin hairs. And the jawline hairs. And the upper lip hairs. Since PUBERTY. I had electrolysis on the chin when I was in high school, but it wasn’t 100% effective, so I still pluck.
I’m not sure that you are asking for advice here, but I do love my magnifying mirror. It’s small and on a flexible gooseneck so I can adjust it to the right place and use it anywhere in the house. I use it so I only have to pluck once every few days rather than every single day. I also recommend keeping tweezers in your car, as sunlight inevitably shows the dark hairs in all their horrifying glory.
I’m holding out for laser hair removal, but that whole single mom thing kinda puts a crimp in the budget so I’m not sure that will ever happen. Like me, you’d be a good candidate for it because of your dark hair and light skin.
I was lamenting a similar problem to my step sister recently. But I was quick to point out that currently I have just the one hair that sprouts every now out of my chin. “Just one!”
My stepsister, who is ten years older than I am was quick to burst my bubble, “don’t get too excited, that’s just a gateway hair!”
Every single time I pull one out, another immediately takes its place.
Word of advice….do NOT under any circumstances, EVER, during the daylight hours, look at yourself in the little mirror on the shade thing that clips down in the car. ESPECIALLY not while driving. Because a little tiny speck of something dark that could be a piece of lint won’t move no matter how often you swipe your hand across it. EVEN THOUGH you thoroughly tweezed that exact area just this morning…
just sayin.
Amen !!!
I used to pride myself on being a low maintenance gal. But that was before the general asthetic rebellion started. Now I am “medium maintenance”. I have foils put in my hair… I bleach my upper lip… I tweeze… I use self tanning lotion… I don’t leave the house without makeup… I have a gym membership… I pay for pedicures and waxing.
The old “raised by hippies” girl is long gone. :-)
Dear Mir, I hope you’ll write on this more. Because it is so hysterically funny among girl friends, and so hysterically not funny when we look in the mirror and realize our looks are going fast and there isn’t any way to stop it. Bargain tip: a zuma X8 lighted mirror at Tuesday Morning for $20ish only when advertised, otherwise is $70-130.
I’ve just turned 51 and sent an inquiry to a plastic surgeon just today. I am fit as a fiddle- and look too old. I’m going to get that fixed! Even though it is very counter to frugal.
Have you tried using mascara to cover up the grays that frame your face most markedly? I use mascara every day this way, to touch things up between trips to the hairdresser! Ya gotta do what ya gotta do!!
Thanks for the fun post!
At about to be 43, I have embraced the sparkly white hairs that are slowly taking precedence over the dark brown ones.
The wrinkles are from laughter and love, though they’re not so obvious, thankfully.
The moustache and unibrow, I could do with out those, but that’s what wax is for.
The menopause? It has eaten my brain, my sex-drive and my metabolism, that bitch. I so want to avoid hormone therapy but I might have to cave at some point, because sex is a living necessity.
Otherwise? This place in my life if fuller and more satisfying then when I was 29. On most days.
Thanks again
I’m 31 with a 2″ square of hair in the upper left corner of my hair line – read smack! where it’s visible – that turns prematurely gray. It is premature, right? Right. I just found out that my hairstylist does what she calls a “drive by”, which is hilarious for a whole ‘nother reason. Anywho, she puts just the upper portion of my skull cap in foils, and then I drive home and rinse it after half-an-hour. She made my appt late at night so that I could sneak out in the cover of darkness, but yeah, I drove home like that. Slowly. So that I wouldn’t get pulled over! The charge is mostly for the product. It works for me because my hair is long, straight, Jennifer Aniston style, and I just need to cover that one spot. It also gives a nice, all over boost. While I’m there I have my eyebrows waxed. (Maybe she could do your chin? *ducks to avoid flying objects*) Spaced in 8 week intervals. $35 with tip. Just a thought…. of course you might not be willing to drive around like that, but it beats needing a root job half the year. You just look kinda crazy for 30 minutes every couple months. Plus, you could always wear a ball cap!
I think I did pretty well accepting my silver streaks, the whiskers, wrinkles and belly fat, but what really threw me for a loop was the gray in places you can’t really dye or tweeze.
Brigitte mentioned skin tags and they’re to me what errant whiskers are to you. Fortunately, there’s no hair growing out of them because then I’d just have to excuse myself and go live along in a yurt. I go to the dermatologist to take care of them and I think you should buy the mirror.
When you hit 40, you suddenly won’t be able to read small print, so you’ll buy fashionable reading glasses because you’re sensible. Buy the mirror.
Three words: laser hair removal.
I thought about buying one of those mirrors – for my eyebrows. But here is what I decided. People in real life don’t see at that magnification, so why should I groom at that magnification?
OK, I’m male, so it’s different, right? I’m also a hell of a lot older. So let me tell you how that all works out. First, I also had the acne. Still have it, really. I get a pimple about once a month or so, and my skin is always fairly oily. And I’m 65 next month. Sixty-five, and that blessed acne still curses me. But on the other hand, all that oily skin means skin that lies nice and flat, so if you look only at my face, I appear to be a good fifteen to twenty years younger. And since I essentially act like I’m in my twenties, there are those who honestly believe I’m even younger. So, the acne has that going for it.
But, you wanna talk curses? I get just enough facial hair that I have to shave every day or look like a bum. I do NOT get enough for a full beard. However, my mustache comes in just enough that it makes a nice one. Except that it’s blonde, and my hair is dark brown. So for the two years I had a mustache in my twenties, I had to dye the damned thing to make it look right. And now that I’m older, I thought a gray mustache might look distinguished, and with all the gray that is now in the rest of my beard, it shouldn’t be a problem, right? Wrong! There are, at most, three gray whiskers in my mustache. All the rest are that flippin’ blonde!
And speaking of the color of my hair, that’s how I remember it, as a kind of faded photograph in the album of life. Now I’m down to a fringe around the edges. In the center I’m bald as a billiard ball. And at your most youthful 38, I have to tell you the writing was already on the wall; I knew I would end up as I have.
Oh, say, did I tell you about the aches and pains? I feel the same mentally as I always have, because my wife and I are both essentially crazy, and that helps a lot. As Jimmy Buffet said, “If we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane.†But feeling young mentally, and feel young because you ARE young is not really the same thing. I mean, it’s not the same thing at all! Sixty-five-old people do NOT bounce out of the bed in the morning. They get up with a groan, and run through stretching exercises in a kind of cold terror that today will finally be the day when stretching those old, battered muscles does nothing at all to restore the elasticity. I’m actually not a religious person, but I never really get to the end of those exercises without (1) feeling better and (2) whispering, “thanks again, Lord.â€
Truthfully, 38 is nothing, nothing at all. I don’t remember feeling remotely old at that age. Try 65 and see if you don’t agree with me!