You know why?
Because I don't wear my reading glasses when I'm looking in the mirror.
So I have been pretty stinkin' ignorant about my aesthetic flaws. That is, until I visited my sister last weekend.
Let's just say that Jean Anne no longer enjoys the status of being the oldest of six siblings. You see, by virtue of being the "most experienced", she gets to lead the rest of us into new, exciting decades. Believe me. She is not at all happy with this role. And, unfortunately, Jean Anne does not wear reading glasses.
"Hey Loulie, are you getting stray hairs popping up on your chin? Dont' you hate them??!"
I said, "No, I haven't had any."
"What?" she said in complete disbelief. "Yes, you do! You must!"
So I reluctantly put on my reading glasses and went to the mirror. "I don't have any."
"No way!," she insisted, sneaking up next to me.
"AHA!" she said, pointing to my upper lip. "You have some peach fuzz!"
Later in the day she asked, "Do you ever wear skirts anymore?"
"Yes. Nearly every day," I responded, clearly caught off guard.
"Do you really?" she said, appalled. "What about the sagging skin on your legs?"
I put on my reading glasses and sadly looked down at my sagging leg skin and nodded.
"Do you have any wine to go with my peach fuzz and sagging leg skin?" I asked.
"I never wear short sleeves anymore, either," she added.
I looked at her twiggy arms in disbelief. "Why not?"
"LOOK AT MY ARM CELLULITE!"
"Where? Are you nuts? Who has cellulite on their arms?" I asked.
She handed me my reading glasses. "Go look. You'll see who has cellulite on her arms," she responded, knowingly.
"NO!" I said. "I refuse to look for arm cellulite. Where's the wine?"
Later we took pictures of ourselves so we could try out virtual haircuts on the internet. "OMG!" Jean Anne said! "My waddle is showing? Why doesn't your picture have a waddle?"
"Maybe because I don't have one," I said, refusing to engage in any more of this nonsense.
"Yeah you do," she said as she gently nudged the skin under my chin into motion.
"Step away from my waddle," I said woefully, as I finished my glass of wine.
Just 24 hours earlier I had been perfectly content, unaware of the fact that I was falling apart at the seams: full of saggy skin, a waddling waddle, not to mention the peach fuzz on my face. And I probably had cellulite growing out of control on my arms.
I had to check.
I grabbed my reading glasses and headed into the bathroom. I turned on every light I could find and rolled my sleeves up to my armpits. And guess what?
No arm cellulite.
I walked back into the the living room, and smugly raised my wine glass in the air with my cellulite-free arm and said, "Here's to aging gracefully!"