Corporal Mysteries, Part Two
A year ago, I wrote about a few strange things that seem to be happening to my middle-aged body (Corporal Mysteries).
I was especially concerned about my eyebrows. And I have written three separate posts about eyebrows, so I guess my concern may be bordering on obsession. But nevertheless.
I don’t understand why my brows are thinning. Well, actually, I do understand – it’s old age. What I don’t understand is why the stray ones won’t also start a disappearing act. Just last night I found a stray eyebrow in the crease of my eye socket. Growing there. Thick and lush and stupid. But if you have read anything I have ever written, you know that I spend a good deal of time in front of the mirror. How long is a good deal of time? When I am getting ready for bed, I sometimes examine myself for so long that I have to pee again. That long.
So my new eyebrow question is: where the heck did that eyebrow hair come from? It wasn’t there yesterday. It wasn’t just sprouting out. No. It was big enough to start to curl.
And speaking of curling. How come my eyebrow hairs are now curling? My head hair won’t curl and never would – no matter how much Dippity-Do I added. And my eyelashes. If I had just TWO eyelashes (one for each eye – I don’t want to look unbalanced) as long and curly as my eyebrows, I’d be ecstatic.
And in the same general vicinity: What is up with my eyelids?
I have extremely dry skin. I slather on the moisturizer like turkey basting. I’m wearing so much argon, aloe – and something that seems a lot like Crisco – why, the last time I had to have an EKG, the technician couldn’t get the leads to stick to me. All those little suction cups kept sliding off.
But if I skip the oil treatment – even for a day – my skin starts to resemble sandpaper. And I leave sandpaper dust in a cloud behind me as I walk.
But I never ever put moisturizer on my eyelids. So if my skin is as dry as the kale chips I tried to make this summer – then WHY are my eyelids as greasy as a Krispy Kreme donut? I wear eyeshadow for twenty minutes tops.
And about my skin: It is just plan wrong that I have a currently have a pimple on my cheek – right near an age spot.
And as long as I am
bitching commenting on my puzzling body, let me talk about toenails for a minute.
When I was in my twenties, I worked for a program that provided assistance to the elderly. One of my responsibilities was to make podiatrist appointments for old people. Old toenails get so thick that a professional is needed to saw through.
And now I’m THERE.
What the heck???
Do I really need to go down to the basement to use my husband’s bench grinder for a trim?
But what’s even more frustrating is my fingernails.
If my toenails are as hard as nails (so to speak), why are my fingernails exactly the opposite? Aren’t they made out of the same stuff? My fingernails are brittle and broken. So fragile they break off when I type. And except for right now, I am not an angry typist.
I figure I can learn to type with my toes.
If I could only train my eyebrow hairs to migrate a little further down and join my few remaining eyelashes. Maybe give them curling lessons.
Maybe they could be wiper blades for my eyelids.