Thursday, October 9, 2014

                      Pillow Drool

     I went to the aesthetician today. She was 12 with flawless skin and a diagnosis that left me “bouche-bée.” (that’s French for “are you effen kiddin’ me?)  I went there to take ten years off my life. She gulped and said, “You’re how old?” I am not sure she’s ever had a patient the age of her great grand-mother. She wasn’t sure how to react. I smiled my crows-feet-dented-cheek-fine-line-smile, and said, “What can you do for me that will produce the greatest impact, minimal down-time and offers a 48-month no-interest payment plan?”

     I tried to explain to this pretty young thing with eyelashes so thick, I’m not sure she was really seeing me clearly, “I just got a notice that there’s been a recall on my lips, and I need to get them into the shop post haste.” She probably thought that meant something to do with the the U.S. Post Office, but they don’t even use their lips to lick stamps there anymore, so what would they know anyway.  She explained to me that I could have a procedure for a mere $600 that would pump up the deflated balloon around my teeth and allow people to recognize that I still had a mouth. (Mr. Wonderful knows otherwise.) Budget calculations raced through my brain (give up cereal for a month, do without toilet paper in two bathrooms, stop the lawn service and check balance in piggy bank). I said, “What else you got?” I could have another chemical peel, and this time, she could go deeper (89% instead of 35%). Oh, joy. That would give me a Tupperware container of dead skin from 1973, but there’s no guarantee I’d look one month younger. “It all depends on genetics and how much water you drink,” she chirped. 

     An hour later, a fistful of brochures and price lists tucked under my crepe-ceps, I left the office, mentally drained. I went home and took a two-hour nap on the new save-your-apple-cheeks pillow given to me as a consolation prize. I dreamed that I was walking the streets of Paris “bouche-bée,” and  a talent scout came up to me and asked if I wanted to be a model in the latest Tupperware for Seniors advertising promotion. I decked him, and then I woke up--drool on my new pillow.