Ally Walker has these big parentheses around her mouth, and every time we watch the movie “Happy, Texas” Mr. Horseshoe swoons over her.
My mother is the poster child (poster old lady?) for not aging gracefully. I don’t ever wanna go down that road. I moisturize my face pretty diligently, but that’s because I like the feel of it as much as anything.
Oh, and uh:
Kinda, I guess. If I smile at myself in the mirror, and then drop back to a blank stare, I can see where the lines I make while smiling are still there. But that’s about it. If it’s relevant, I still get carded, too.
I’ve been able to see very fine lines at the corners of my eyes and mouth for a couple years now.
Staring down the barrel at the big 3-0.
I notice them on Willie Nelson’s facebut that worn and lived-in look is analogous, to me, to an old pair of jeans, the kind that are so soft and comform so perfectly you feel naked. It wouldn’t be right any other way. Otherwise, not really.
I have deep horizontal grooves in my throat. I think they’re there because I was such a bookwork as a kid. (Lie on your back and prop a book on your chest. Look down.) Those, and a quick look at my relatives, mean I’m fairly certain I’ll wind up with a turkey neck when I’m old. And that’s gonna bug me.
Lumpy leg veins would bother me too, I bet. We’ll see if I get those, too.
I’ve often thought that the existence of “Anti-Wrinkle/Anti-Blemish” moisturizers is a pretty good argument against the existence of a benevolent God.
I’m 38, and pretty wrinkle-free (I literally just checked :)). In repose, I’ve got some very faint shallow lines on my forehead, and around the corners of my mouth (one of which currently has a series of three tiiiiiiiiiiny but painful pimples in it :rolleyes:). Weirdly, there’s not a single line around my eyes, even though I’m constantly smiling, frequently squinting, and often straight-up pulling at them, since I’m a contact lens wearer.
I know how you feel about the turkey neck. I’m definitely going to have it when I get older. I have this pocket of fat under my chin I call my wub (don’t ask why, but it has become a separate entity with its own name). I haven’t been able to get rid of it no matter how thin I’ve gotten. I still had the damn thing when I was anorexic. Unless I get liposuction, it’s going to meet my neck in a decade or so and I’m just going to have to deal with it.
And my mom has never been known to be tactful with her daughters. She’s gotten to the point where she claims she’s just “telling it like it is.” Unfortunately, her version of telling it like it is is my version of just plain bitchy. Neither I nor my sister pay her much attention when she gets into one of her more “helpful” moods. Or, rather we do, but we try to make a good show of actively ignoring her. I think we’re both hoping that, like a toddler, her bad behavior stops when she doesn’t get attention. So far, that’s been unsuccessful, but somewhat satisfying nonetheless.
(bolding mine) And the fact that it doesn’t even actually work. At least, for pimples, I don’t have enough visible wrinkles to tell if it worked for that.
I’m 28, and don’t really have any except when I wear mineral make-up it settles into a very fine line on one side of my mouth, and makes it more pronounced. So I’m not wearing mineral make-up anymore, because yes, I will admit it does bother me. Wrinkles bother more than gray hair would, I think - probably because I had acne when I was a teenager and in my early 20’s, and now that I’ve finally got decent skin, I’m getting WRINKLES? Fuck that noise.
I’m not nuts about it, but I do use anti-wrinkle creams. I doubt I’d ever get to the point where surgery or botox sounds like a good idea, though.
They don’t bother me at all on other people, though, men or women. I think I’ve just spent too long being obsessed with my skin.
Kathleen Turner said “Past 40, you can keep either your face or your body”. Jane Fonda is proof of the strain on your face caused by trying to keep the body of an 18 year old.
I’m a 49 year old man and I somehow managed to have both wrinkles and acne. Furrowed brow, creases between the eyebrows, “laugh lines” on the sides of my mouth and fairly subtle (as yet) crows feet. I’ve gotten to the point where I look like my Dad did when he died at 46 (of lung cancer - please don’t smoke).
Luckily, I’ve been with the same woman for 29 years, we love each other as we are, and will be together until we drop. She’s a couple of years older than I am, has developed a few lines, but doesn’t use any makeup and is aging quite gracefully. Which is perfectly fine with me.
