January 16, 2015

The Lines of Time

hourglass : Sandman on a white background, vector illustration   Not sure whether to be excited or depressed.
   Maybe both.
   I woke up today with a new line on my face.
   Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?
   Now, I'm not saying I didn't already have a few lines, but I saw them brewing, chipping away at my once smooth skin day after day, year after year, until they were finally like "bitch, Im here for good, what are you going to do about it?"
   But this new line...it just snuck in, completely unannounced, and planted itself right there on a conspicuous part of my face, and it was like, "Boo-yah! See if that Strivictens gonna fix this, bitch!"
   Now those of you who read me know I'm normally not a curser and rarely use the B word, but when I'm speaking from the wrinkles point of view, I have to use a stronger word. Wrinkles aren't sweet. They aren't demure. They, along with double-chins, are the thugs of the Selfie world.
   So anyway, I have a new line, and yes I slathered on some cream, and no it didn't help.
   I'm starting to get sick of this 'aging' thing. Can I stop now? Waking up everyday to see what new fun new joke Mother Nature and Father Time are going to play on me is getting old, so to speak.
   First the boobs, then the face, what are you coming for next Time?
   I swallow, realizing the temperature in the room has dropped ten degrees.
   A cold hand rests on my shoulder and I hear the wind in my ear, or maybe its a whisper...
"You. I'm coming for you."
   Umm, was hoping for something more comforting. Maybe I'll go have a drink, and take my wrinkle and like it.

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