#72 and #73
Nora Ephron’s “I feel bad about my neck” inspired a post about my own concern for all things that will eventually sag. At the risk of sounding alarm bells yet again, in the last couple weeks, I have added two more concerns to the list.
#72 – the sleepless nights associated with my new found fear of crêpe paper skin rests squarely on the shoulders of Lord Fauntleroy. While brushing his teeth one morning he noted the skin on his cheeks did not undulated under the pressure of the toothbrush head as it once did, rather, it, cracked, stacked and piled up looking like crêpe paper. Sneak a peek at a streamer or anything made out of the substance and you’ll see what I mean.
On a discreet trip to the WC, I started to poke and prod my face for similar signs. I snapped my fingers for dedication to my Clinique 3-Step addiction. Crows feet aside, for now at least, it seems to have staved off time’s theft of my youthful appearance.
That fantasy came crashing down about my ears about a week later while visiting Baco Noir and family. We were sitting on their new fabulous deck and summer of course equals shorts. Crossing my legs I saw it. Crêpe paper skin on my thigh! I thought the legs were the last thing to go! Tucked under trousers and slacks, away from the damaging rays of the sun for most of the year they are supposed to be the last bastion of our youth!
Next stop, the Clinique counter. “I’ll take two of everything you have. In a pail please.” “Make it three.”
#73 – the annual physical. Manscaped to perfection – check. Flattering undergarment – check check. Pee in the cup, not on the hand – good eye – hand – junk coordination.
Lost a few pounds – good. Blood pressure “reassuringly low” – I’ll take that. A poke here, deep breath there, cough in that direction, shine a light down the throat, in the nose and ears – all clear, all good.
“Shall we do the turn your head and cough test?” the doctor asked? “It’s already out, so why not?” Cough cough and we’re good.
“And how about the prostate?” I assumed the position in response. Much too lube and a little discomfort later I get “Well, your prostate is a little bigger. But that’s to be expected as you get older. Do you find you need to get up in the night to pee?”
“WHAT?! Well yes I get up but I thought that was the two gin martini’s I have as a nightcap.” Two, I know, but you can’t sleep on one wing. That’s the expression right?
There’s no stopping it. I’m getting old on the inside too! Mind you, Clinique’s Dramatically Different Moisturizer comes with a pump action spout. Maybe if I squat just right……
#72 – the sleepless nights associated with my new found fear of crêpe paper skin rests squarely on the shoulders of Lord Fauntleroy. While brushing his teeth one morning he noted the skin on his cheeks did not undulated under the pressure of the toothbrush head as it once did, rather, it, cracked, stacked and piled up looking like crêpe paper. Sneak a peek at a streamer or anything made out of the substance and you’ll see what I mean.
On a discreet trip to the WC, I started to poke and prod my face for similar signs. I snapped my fingers for dedication to my Clinique 3-Step addiction. Crows feet aside, for now at least, it seems to have staved off time’s theft of my youthful appearance.
That fantasy came crashing down about my ears about a week later while visiting Baco Noir and family. We were sitting on their new fabulous deck and summer of course equals shorts. Crossing my legs I saw it. Crêpe paper skin on my thigh! I thought the legs were the last thing to go! Tucked under trousers and slacks, away from the damaging rays of the sun for most of the year they are supposed to be the last bastion of our youth!
Next stop, the Clinique counter. “I’ll take two of everything you have. In a pail please.” “Make it three.”
#73 – the annual physical. Manscaped to perfection – check. Flattering undergarment – check check. Pee in the cup, not on the hand – good eye – hand – junk coordination.
Lost a few pounds – good. Blood pressure “reassuringly low” – I’ll take that. A poke here, deep breath there, cough in that direction, shine a light down the throat, in the nose and ears – all clear, all good.
“Shall we do the turn your head and cough test?” the doctor asked? “It’s already out, so why not?” Cough cough and we’re good.
“And how about the prostate?” I assumed the position in response. Much too lube and a little discomfort later I get “Well, your prostate is a little bigger. But that’s to be expected as you get older. Do you find you need to get up in the night to pee?”
“WHAT?! Well yes I get up but I thought that was the two gin martini’s I have as a nightcap.” Two, I know, but you can’t sleep on one wing. That’s the expression right?
There’s no stopping it. I’m getting old on the inside too! Mind you, Clinique’s Dramatically Different Moisturizer comes with a pump action spout. Maybe if I squat just right……
posted by Robert Mitchell L.L. at
7:56 AM
1 Comments:
I'll add gravity increased scrotum length to a list of future worries for you. Already happening to some of us.
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