Hope in a Jar and and a Song in My Heart

I don't mind being older, because the older I get, the more I know, and the less I worry. I do, however, miss my jawline, which has been obscured by a double chin for a few years and now even that's starting to droop. My mother kindly offered me a small face lift, but then Thailand had to go and have all the political upheaval, so that dream ended a quick death. Now that I've found other cheapie chin-lipo options, the offer has been withdrawn on the grounds that they're too busy kitting Lulu for her private university this fall.

She's young, slim, lovely, with a wide smile. She'll be fine: she could look good in a paper sack. I, on the other hand, need some help.

First of all, I grew my hair out, as I couldn't honestly remember what color it was, and I had a sneaky suspicion it was not the lovely golden brown of yore. I was right: it is dirty dishwater with amazingly beautiful strands of sparkling pewter. However, the strands surrounding the pewter look like used tarnish remover, and this is not cute. You know what is great for people like me? Whose hair grows an inch or more a month and who are too damn busy and too damn fussy to mess with going to a beauty parlor every two weeks for a trim and color? Loving Care, that's what. But it's hell to find--I had to go to seven different stores to find four bottles to take back to a friend in China. (Note to Customs: yes, this would be one reason why even my luggage is overweight.) It now occurs to me I could have ordered it online to be delivered to my parents' house, but I forgot. I'm OLD, ok? I have moved 27 times in the last 18 years and I am starting to slip on the small details, like where Lulu's immunization booklet is. (The fact the air conditioner vomited water all over Boxes 1 and 2 of Important Documents as I was packing for this trip might have something to do with that.)

Second: I have stayed out of the sun most of my life, having a red-head's inability to tolerate sunlight, but I have noticed massive droop. Those Immigration agents at the airport had the nerve to ask if I was Lulu's older sister: Liars. They are not flirting with me, they are flirting with HER, and I am the means through which they operate. This is exactly the same feeling I had in high school when out with my friend Gayle: men would sidle up and ask me questions about her without making eye contract. I realize now that having a friend more lovely than you--or at least one who is willing to put out--is early training for a career as a duenna. But I digress. I have hideous scars on my stomach from liposuction-gone-wrong. Well, it wasn't that wrong: I didn't die or anything, but it was not done well (what do you expect for a hundred bucks?) and subsequent weight gain has rendered that area toxic. So I'm trying Strivectin, which I have used around my eyes (specially formulated!) with good effect.

I don't expect miracles, although one would sure come in handy right about now. When my holiday is over in a few days (va-kay to you Yanks)I will hop on a plane and go back to the murk and humidity of Beijing, where my bestest pal and my six-year-old godson are waiting to watch me unpack 21 boxes full of crap from moving. I'll start taking our dog The Dick (that's the dog, not the boyfriend) out for long walks, and power-walk with my Ipod on full blast so I don't have to hear the comments. In short, I'll stop eating Whoppers and drinking Yoo Hoo and without the additional poundage straining at my skin with every step I will just naturally look better. But I'm still going to smear myself with the magic ointment and hope that I will regain the youthful radiance of someone who thinks they actually have a shot at fame, fortune, love and money instead of someone who merely hopes to get through the week without getting into debt or pissing someone off.

A note: if you're in the dumps and you don't have an IPOD, get one. They are WOONNDERFULLLLL! I am not a big Apple fan but I have to say, having one of these babies is terrific. First of all, I can listen to music I like (Korgies,anyone? Actually, it's mostly Neil Finn and Crowded House with a twist of Boz Scaggs and Ella Fitzgerald) Second of all, it has a pedometer and I religiously get in at least 7,500 steps a day--and am aiming for a consistent 10,000. I would tell you how many calories that is, but then you could back track and extrapolate my weight off that (roughly that of a defensive lineman who likes to eat his Momma's cooking. A lot.) There are some things even I won't put into writing:this is one of them.