The Right Words

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This morning a tube of cucumber green facial gel lying on the bathroom countertop caught my eye. I quickly smeared the required amount over my crinkly cheeks. It hardened in a minute, and though I could barely move my lips, my skin was smooth as a baby’s butt.

I wish I could look like this all the time, I thought.

Unfortunately, when I washed the mask off, every fold and furrow fell back into place. Evidently old age was catching up with me and something more permanent needed to be done.

But what?

A facelift came to mind, but I dislike surgery. Ditto needles and botox. Maybe a lotion, cream or ointment would do the trick.

Yet I’d just read most over-the-counter products failed to deliver on the pledge printed on their labels. And the rest of the article was just as depressing. Not only could I expect more wrinkles as I marched toward fogyhood, but also dryness, brown spots and a blotchy complexion.

Well, bummer. Unless I could find a genie in a bottle willing to turn back the hands of time, it appeared I was stuck with this corrugated face.

And then I remembered what my grandson told me the last time I groused about folds, creases, furrows, and the anti-aging cosmetics that were supposed to make all that crimp and pucker go away.

“Grandma,” he’d said. “Every wrinkle’s a smile.”

Sometimes grandkids say exactly what you need to hear.

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