Holy Mackerel

With the coming of summer comes the appearance and importance of The Tan. Especially when you live in Canada, where summer weather is at an all-time premium. I'm sure you all do this at home, with your family and friends. As the warm weather progresses, you begin comparing tans. Of course you do. I was committed to winning The Tan Wars in our house this year. Every year, I seem to lose, even against the dog. Let's just say I don't tan all that well. I just burn. Burn, then peel, then freckle. Part of the problem is obviously the fact that I don't sit out in the sun in the first place. I'm afraid of something called Cancer. Especially skin cancer, because that would just suck, getting huge holes in your flesh and all that. Moving on. In our house, Em and Mr. Handsome seem to get the best tans, without even trying. It's like they decide it's time for summer, and they come home half an hour later glowing like the sun. Must be nice. In an effort to win the...

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 whenev...