Pearls of Wisdom and Foolish Mutterings

Ah, The Years, They Are Upon Us

I've been studying my picture that is posted at the top of my blog and I believe the camera used to take that picture distorted my nose. I promise my nose is not huge like that. I wasn't truly convinced it was the camera and was becoming fearful that my nose might actually have bloomed all over my face until I read an article about photography by a friend today. I can't remember exactly what he said (and I can't refer to it because the STUPID site is down - AGAIN!) but it was something along the lines of a certain lens being necessary when photographing animals because any other kind of lens tends to make the animal's nose appear larger than it really is.

Now, I can hear you saying and that relates to this how? But, seriously, think about it. If a certain type of lens can make an animal's nose appear larger, then why would the same principle not apply to humans? Aside from that, I don't want to believe my nose really has gotten larger. Did you know that the only two appendages on our bodies that never stop growing are our noses and ears? I don't know if that's true or not, but I've heard it all my life, so that must certainly lend some credibility to it. And if it is indeed true, well, what kind of heinously cruel cosmic joke is that, anyway?

Isn't it enough that as we age our metabolism slows to a snail's pace, necessitating that our daily caloric intake drop by 85%? Not to mention the fact that the mere sight of a tasty morsel makes my butt grow by two sizes in a matter of moments. I'm also not really fond of crepe-y skin, upper arms that suddenly take on the appearance of bat wings, or gravity's effect on any part of the body that is not tied down, stretched tight or chemically altered.

As this is the second blog piece I've written in as many days about my growing horror over the aging process, one might infer that I am having some difficulty aging gracefully. One would be correct. It may have something to do with the full-length wall-to-wall mirrors in the dining room of my new house. Those mirrors mock me every time I walk past them. I try to avert my eyes and walk by quickly, but inevitably I feel the magnetic pull of my eyes to the mirror and then... BAM! It wasn't that many years ago when I was a big fan of mirrors. Not anymore. No way. Unh-unh! I think there should be some kind of magical thing where, once you pass fifty, it is physically impossible to look below your chin in a mirror. Of course, if my dream ever comes true and I wake up one morning to find 40 pounds of unsightly fat lying in a puddle beside me on the floor, I reserve the right to change my mind and step over that puddle to head straight to a mirror to ogle my new svelte body.

And remember... that's really not my nose up there.