Milking My Face For All Its Worth

Once I hit my 40s, which was really only nanoseconds ago (honest!), I began to notice a definite change in my appearance. See here and here for examples, if you dare.

What has really hit me hard, however, is the change in my skin, especially on my face. I never had wrinkles to speak of until the 40s era reared its ugly head. First, it was around the eyes. Very noticeable, very awful wrinkles that not only appeared overnight in the corners of my once-beautiful green eyes, but also bagged wrinkles that accumulated underneath my once-beautiful green eyes. These wrinkly bags are so noticeable and so large that I look part-elephant. No, they're not laugh lines, and no, I should not be proud of them as I am of my stretch marks. No. These are just plain old elephant-skin bags of wrinkled skin, hanging from tethers under my eyes, like a deflated hot air balloon that's begging to land.

Soon after, the jowls began their downward dance. Now, most of my friends and family poo poo me whenever I speak of my jowls, telling me I'm crazy. But I know. I know they're just trying to make me feel better. I know what they're really saying is, "We really feel for you, Mary. You must get a bad road rash dragging those cheeks around."

Those endearing pictures of basset hounds you see? That's me, except not so endearing.

So, one day a few years ago, in an effort to combat the progressive and literal descent of my aging carapace, my sloughing parchment, I decided to actually try and do something about it instead of what I usually do, which is nothing. So I went to my favourite cross-stitch store in town, Cross-Stitch Cupboard, which is now known as Knit One, Stitch Two!. Why, you ask? Because that's where I go when I need to de-stress, to forget about life's many foibles, and to drown myself in the waves and oceans of cross-stitch patterns. They make me happy. If you don't understand this, you never will, and that's perfectly okay. Just don't judge me for having this love affair with all things cross-stitch, okay? I can't help it. It just happened.

So, I was at Knit One, Stitch Two!, having multiple orgasms while in the holiday pattern aisle, when I happened to glance over to my right, and there, inconspicuously sitting on a shelf, was a jar of udder cream. You are probably asking yourself right now, "What in heaven's name is udder cream doing in a stitching shop?!" Well, if you aren't, you should be, don't you think? I know I did. Being the curious person that I am, I picked up this jar, after recovering from my 10th consecutive orgasm, and tried to understand why it was there.

The cream, called Udderly Smooth, is just that: udder cream. That is, for cows, who possess udders. And, I'm just guessing here, dry udders. Maybe even chapped udders. I'm not a country girl, but I'm assuming cows' udders can get chapped. Can't they? I'm sure they can. Otherwise, why would udder cream even exist?

This cream, I discovered, is amazing. I'm sure the cows think so. But I'm talking about we humans now. Udderly Smooth is greaseless and stainless, hence its presence at the cross-stitch shop. In order to cross-stitch, quilt or knit, you really need your hands to be in good shape, not dry and chapped, sore and rough. So, we cross-stitchers slather some of this lotion on our workaholic hands, and voila! they are reborn!

And so, being the gifted person I am, I had another thought. If this cream is so holy for the hands, not to mention the udders, than it should be more than adequate for the face. And not just any face. My face. My corrugated, corrupt, creased, folded and withered face. If it can repair the most furrowed and chapped udders, it can definitely help me, I reasoned.

The instructions on the jar state, "Wash udder and teat parts thoroughly with clean water and soap before each milking. Apply to the udder after each milking, massaging into the skin. For teat cracks, apply in sufficient quantity to fill crack and cover surrounding area. Apply uniformly to chafed area and bruises to maintain skin suppleness. For aid in softening swollen udders following calving, apply liberally twice daily with gentle massage."

So that's what I did. On my face, not my udders, although I'm sure they could use some cream too. I threw on some Udderly Smooth and massaged it into my face, just like the directions said. At first, I put it on at night before I went to bed. The next morning, my skin felt smooooth and soft, like silky chiffon. I was amazed. Truly. So, I started using the lotion every morning as well. It does the job without the greasy feeling many lotions have, which is what I like about it, apart from the fact that it feels sooo good and makes my skin feel like a baby's squeaky clean butt.

I use this stuff religiously now. I don't know if it's made a huge difference in the appearance of my elephant skin, or the further downward sinking of my jowls, but I do know that my skin is no longer rough, dull, and dry. And really, that's all I can ask for at this stage in my life. But wouldn't it be really cool if my cheeks started producing milk? I wouldn't mind hanging jowls so much if I could get a sip of warm milk from them when the urge strikes.