I spent the early part of the morning drinking my fake coffee mocha and checking Facebook. I left in plenty of time to get to my exercise class. As I was driving down the freeway I glanced into the rear view mirror and screamed.
Aagh! I’d forgotten to put on my makeup!
If I turned around, I’d be late to class. If I kept going, I could wear my glasses and throw on some lipstick. I always had lipstick.
As I was driving 65 mph down the freeway to my off ramp, I dug through the center console. Surely I had an extra eye liner pencil somewhere. I could put it on using the visor mirror and make my tired eyes look a little brighter. I found some plastic spoons, a straw, two suckers, some Band Aids, a bunch of receipts, and even a dog collar and two dog treats. But alas, no eyeliner pencil.
After I got to the parking lot, I put everything back into the console, except the receipts, which I rolled up into one wad. At least I was cleaning out my car.
After class I stopped at Costco and picked up the five things I went for, plus fifteen more. I had on my exercise clothes but didn’t feel too bad about it until a guy kept sneaking looks at me. He answered his cell phone and I hear him say, “I am here by the meat.” Was his wife or girlfriend on the line? How cute! They had separated and needed a distant cell tower to help find each other.
Then I stopped to see my sister and to deliver her new bouquet of yellow and white carnations and to give her a tiramisu treat. Costco does not sell pumpkin pie in January.
“Not until September,” the baker said.
Pumpkin pie is soft. My sis needs soft food. She scarfed up the tiramisu and then complained about a stomach ache.
I took my ice cream and chicken home, put it in the fridge and freezer, and then played ball with the dogs in the park, one at a time. It was only 1:00 when I finished. I had hours in front of me before the next commitment at 6:00.
My co-authors and I texted and emailed all afternoon about the problem we are having regarding the agent’s request for advice. We had steered away from it for liability reasons, but she was saying it was missing from our “half proposal.”
I changed my clothes and put on the missing makeup, not a big deal to be seen without it in your twenties, a very big deal in your sixties. Makeup can take off ten to fifteen years if you are subtle about it — an instant face lift.
Aging is a cruel joke for Boomers living into our 80’s and 90’s. But it’s better than the alternative.
This is the last decade of face lifts, tummy tucks, eyelid surgery, and everything else. I’ve always said that it’s not for me, but now I’m not so sure.
That pale reflection in the rear-view mirror this morning scared me half to death. I was on my way to a public place with a naked face.
Tomorrow I will pay more attention. Less Facebook time, and more makeup time.