Not

A

Hair

Out 

Of 

Place

Or

The

Fine Art

Of

Splitting

Heirs

A thought came to me this morning when I sat down at the kitchen table in the light of day, to tweeze my eyebrows. I had a hunch I needed a trim, after I glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror and thought I saw Groucho Marx leering back at me. 

At my age, tweezing is an elaborate ritual. I need not one, but two pairs of reading glasses and the help of a 10X magnifying mirror, while sitting directly in front of a window early in the morning so that I catch myself in the best light, metaphorically speaking.

Mr. DeMille, I am ready for my close up. 

I try very hard not to scream. Some of the hairs are very forward and stick straight out. Those are the easy ones to grab first. So I do, and invariably grab a few more until one eyebrow now appears to be hyphenated. So I do the "trim your bangs" exercise. You know, the one where you start to trim your bangs and one side is uneven, so you try to even things up and the next thing you know your forehead has receded completely into your scalp.

Imogene Coca Style.

If you are younger than 95, Google her. 

The point is I now have two matching eyebrows that look like this....

 ___  ___            ___  ___

 0                       0

After I gather up all the hair repair and rejuvenation paraphernalia, it is time for my morning shower. This is where I would normally put my foot down, but I don't have non-skid strips underfoot, so I mutter to myself instead.

I should, repeat, should shave my legs, or...not. 

This growing older business is patently unfair. 

A loved one recently gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Bald. Not a hair on her head...or her legs...she didn't even have eyebrows...just little furrows where they would eventually grow. 

I was jealous. 

Mint condition. Not a hair out of place. 

It seems to me that women should be like fine wine. 

Improving with age.

Appreciating in value. 

NOT grizzled, fossilized, decrepit, ancients.

RATHER, ripe, mature, well-developed, fully grown...Ups.

Maintenance free. 

With great curb appeal, as long as you stand on the curb, 

when you feel the need to get up close and personal.

My lawyer stresses the importance of having a living will. 

I stress the importance of having a will to live, 

but just to be annoying, I told him I wanted to add a rider. 

For seasoned seniors. 

I want to bequeath to my "heirs", my "hairs".  I want to donate part of the proceeds from the sale of my artwork, to scientific research that insures that as women age, their countenance will be as smooth as sea glass, gently worn and eroded, rather than prickly as a cactus.

I know the secret of why "Mona Lisa" is smiling. Check out her eyebrows. I'll bet HER reading glasses are tucked under her hands, and she is sitting on her TWEEZERS. No? Look for yourself. I bet she even has one chin hair. She's just waiting for her best friend to point it out. 

Lest you think I am unappreciative of this sweet life I have been given, let me straighten you out.

A month ago, I tried to use my senior discount on a purchase and they asked for ID. 

Carded. I was carded!

So, as to my continuing will and testament, let me put it this way. I guess pulling out a few weeds and tending to a bit of pruning is not such a bad way to spend one's time. 

I am appreciating...

...and celebrating

every single minute...

...just like that fine wine...

Full bodied and with an excellent bouquet. 

That's garden speak for all of us women of a certain age.

Heirlooms. 

As priceless as the Mona Lisa.