One morning, as I was putting makeup on, I was taking a serious look at my reflection. This in my make-up mirror, which of course was magnified for maximum detection of everything you really do not want to see.
Looking closely, I noticed that I had many more wrinkles on the left side of my face than the right. So I turned to my husband who was just getting out of the shower, “Honey, can you tell that I have more wrinkles on the left side of my face than the right?”
He froze on the spot like a deer caught in the headlights. “Well,” he chuckled. “You know I can’t see anything without my glasses, but no, I don’t see the difference.”
I knew he was not going to tell me the truth, so I considered my options for dealing with this beauty crisis. It was either going to be therapy, meditation, or my go to favorite – alone time to sulk with a good bottle of wine.
That afternoon I had lunch with a friend, explaining to her my concern about my newly discovered wrinkles. “Becky,” she said, “at your age you should not take wrinkles seriously. Just pretend they only exist in the mirror.”
Usually, she is the fount of wisdom, but I thought her answer was just stupid. So, I logged on to where we all go when trauma sets in – Google. The first item that popped up about wrinkling was determining how we sleep. It turns out that side sleepers have more wrinkles.
I sleep on my left side so there you go. Wrinkle city had set down roots. A solution for this was purchasing a silk pillowcase, which was supposed to solve all my wrinkle issues. Not one to procrastinate, I jumped in the car and headed to the nearest store to purchase my savior in pink.
The package said it eliminated facial folds by keeping your skin supple allowing your pores to breathe. My first night using it, however, was a dilemma I did not see coming.
We have one of those beds you can raise up and down and we keep the bed elevated because, of course, we both snore. So, trying to position myself on my side, I had a hard time keeping my head from sliding off the pillow.
Also, the silk felt kind of slimy, and, although I washed it, the smell was much different from my regular pillowcase. I was up and down trying to reposition me, the pillow, and the bed to no avail. By 2 a.m. my “beauty pillow” had been ripped off and was on its way to the waste basket.
As I lay there trying to go back to sleep, my thoughts turned to my tiny 5-foot tall grandmother, who lived with me for five years before she passed away. I was walking down the hall one day with a basket of laundry when she came out of the bathroom completely naked.
From the back she looked just like ET – with all her wrinkles and skinny little arms and legs. But you know what? I realized in that moment how beautiful she really was with her white blonde hair, sky blue eyes, and a high voltage personality.
Her name was Goldie, and she certainly lived up to it. Goldie was an outrageous flirt, and men absolutely adored her. She was my idol, and her wrinkles never bothered her. She was the epitome of aging at its best.
My last thoughts as I drifted off to sleep were how funny she would find all this.
My husband was reading the paper that next evening, and I plopped down on the couch next to him. “Are we going to have a talk?” he asked, rolling his eyes in alarm. “No, not really. I am depressed about my wrinkles,” I said sadly.
He looked exasperated as he put down the paper. “Becky, I’ve been watching you grow older ever since we first met in high school. It does not bother me that you have wrinkles. Your face is the face that I love, not your face at 20, 50, or even 70. Stop worrying about wrinkles – you will always be perfect to me.”
He said it all with a wink, picking up the paper. I, of course, sat there in shock. My not-at-all romantic husband had just said the sweetest thing he has ever said to me.
Looking in the mirror the next morning, I thought about the life I have lived and the wrinkles I have that are proof of the struggle, heartache, and blessings. As I tried to apply more concealer and powder over the “left side,” I thought, “What the heck, go for it, girl, because no one is guaranteed tomorrow!”
Do you worry about your wrinkles? How often do you observe your face up close and regret having all those lines? Or do you feel you’ve earned every single one of them? Please share any funny stories you have gathered over the years!