I turn 41 years old in about a week, and I have really felt my age the past year. My skin isn't as bright as it used to be -- and there's so much more of it! -- my teeth are not pearly, my eyes grow dim. And the shelf over my backside remains. Really it's more like an entire chest of drawers now.
So perhaps it was more of a suggestion than a mere informational item that my brother tucked into my transatlantic birthday package. It was a newspaper advertisement featuring a friend from my high school years, who is now a prominent doctor in our hometown.
For many years this reconstructive surgeon cared for burn victims, children with cleft palates, etc. Now, also in his 40s, he is involved with different types of cosmetic surgery,"turning back the hands of time" in a public presentation that invites readers to come and enjoy appetizers and a reception with him.
"Dr. [Friend of Mapgirl] will present an overview of cosmetic surgery trends, breast augmentation, liposuction and facial injectables."
Hmm. Good to know. I'm strangely vain about some things -- I have never colored my hair, for example -- and couldn't give a toss about others. I doubt I'd ever go through with plastic cosmetic surgery, but as Year 41 approaches I can begin to imagine the benefits of some of my friend's handiwork (as long as it's not the augmentation nor the injectables).
Hope there's a childhood-pal discount.
At least I had planned on being 40, because when I was a kid I did the math and realized that when the year 2000 came, I'd be 42.
Now I'm 50, an age that had never crossed my mind. I'm lost! It's like getting off a plane in a town you've never heard of.
Posted by: Opie32958 | 06 July 2008 at 22:12