Am I the only woman who compares herself to women of a like age? The other day I was watching the news and commented to my husband that Ann Curry (NBC) doesn’t have any facial wrinkles. How does she do that? He grunted and said, “You don’t have wrinkles either.” Well, that was the wrong thing to say no matter how well intentioned. I immediately took him on a tour of all my flaws with a smattering of phrases like, “deep as the Grand Canyon,” or “more furrows than a plowed field.” I only stopped the tour when we came to the gift shop, which was good because he needed Advil for a headache by then.
My common sense tells me this is ridiculous. My husband doesn’t see my wrinkles, so why do I insist on pointing them out? When did wrinkles first equate to ugly?
My heart recalls my grandmother gazing in the mirror and shrieking about the growing number of lines on her face. I’d look at her in bewilderment, because I didn’t see her wrinkles either. To me her skin was soft and crinkly, and I loved it because it was a face I adored attached to a woman I cherished. She was ageless, and looked like the best kind of grandmother…mine.
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