Tuesday, April 14, 2015

               Nostalgic Song:  I’ve Got You Under My Skin

     Have you ever heard the expression, “He really gets under my skin.” How about “That really makes my skin crawl.” Maybe, “That gives me goose bumps.” Yeah, yeah, it’s grandma language, I know, but grandma had it going on--at least until she was about 25, and then it was all down hill. When my grandma was 25, there weren’t magic potions that puffed up the lips to make them look sexy swollen. They had never heard of some toxic crap that you can have injected between your eyes to hide your worry lines. Grandmas didn’t worry about things like this; they had more important things to think about like raising children and milking cows. In those days, grandma would have been appalled that people actually paid thousands of dollars to have their skin pulled tight over their skeletons just to look cool. Grandma wasn’t into skin tightening; it was more about the belt.

     So what does this have to do with my nostalgic song? Everything. What I mourn is what used to be under my skin:  collagen. Yup, that stuff that makes you look like you’re still alive and not ready for the sarcophagus. From some random age, and no one knows what that is, the collagen under our skin begins to disappear. One day it’s here; the next day it’s gone, not unlike my paycheck. I don’t mind that my paycheck is flat with no oomph, but my face in that condition is unacceptable. 

     My new take on the song, therefore, is “I Want You Under My Skin.” Somehow wishing won’t make it so. Ladies under sixty, get out there and celebrate you collagen. Have collagen parties. Make up rain dances for collagen. Maybe you can extract some of that shit and put it in a freezer for when you get old and want to plump up those cheeks (whichever ones need it at that time). In any case, if you’ve still got it; flaunt it. If not, do not allow any photos taken within 75 feet of your face. 

Flaunt that skin, baby, while you can!