“Let’s party before we’re put out to pasture.”
I read that on my friend’s cup as I drank tea at her house.
“You can be sure I didn’t buy that. It was a gift.”
She is older than I am, and determined to stay young. I smile a little.
We’ve had the conversation about whether we would use botox or get plastic surgery. We discovered we share the same family doctor, and I found out that the reason it is so hard to get an appointment with her is she is booked up doing cosmetic procedures. Botox. Lucky for us, if we want to.
I don’t think Denny would go for it. He always tells me he likes me just the way I am. To tell the truth, I haven’t given it much thought.
My cousin had some enhancements. I had no idea. Never even gave it a thought until one day her friend, who was almost a total stranger to me, asked me, in confidence, if I knew whether she had had implants. I could truthfully tell her I didn’t have a clue.
Next time I saw her I took a closer and decided she had. That explained why, in the back of my mind, I hadn’t been able to reconcile something about a photo of her lounging in her bikini on a beach in Mexico. Our subconscious mind is a powerful thing.
Well, what’s it to me. That’s her choice. But I did read this week that if you are going to be doing strenuous exercise those things can move around and end up under your armpits. Picture that.
We women endure a lot to look good.
Denny is rummaging around the house for chocolate. The chocolate ice cream is gone. I kept the house stocked for a couple of months. The chocolate chip and Oreo cookies are gone. The Valentine’s chocolates are gone.
“What about your secret stash?”
Yes, Denny knows about that. It was my secret for some time.
He wouldn’t dare get into it, though. Denny has good boundaries.
I pull down the box from a high cabinet in the bedroom, look in it. No, it’s all gone, I tell Denny.
“No, wait a minute. There is a bag here.” I pull out a plastic bag with handful of Easter eggs. “That’s all there is.”
I am increasing my protein and reducing my carbs, after something I read in a beauty book. Cutting way back on sweets, and since everything chocolate is sweet, I have to give up my favorite food, next to cheese. I have an insane love for cheese.
I bought some Brie cheese on the weekend and I went down to the ocean with my cheese and a box of crackers and one leg of roasted chicken and had a picnic all by myself. It was glorious.
I decided to cut back on caffeine too, and suffered with a three day headache for that.
“You’re gonna cave,” my boss told me. “You’re gonna relapse.”
He was teasing, but I was tempted. I now have a sense of what an addict goes through.
He asked me why I was doing it. Was it for Lent? Well, there are different views on Lent, I told him. I have never really practiced giving things up for Lent.
I didn’t even know that non-Catholic Christians practiced Lent until a few years ago. Seems reminiscent of penance to me. I don’t do Advent either. Maybe I should. Preparation for the Season and all that.
“But you could say, you’re giving it up for Lent.”
And why would I do that? When I’m not. I didn’t say this to him. He was just talking.
I don’t like misrepresentation.
A friend once told me that I could wear a fake diamond and nobody would suspect anything, because I wasn’t that type of person. Well, that is precisely why I wouldn’t do it.
Denny doesn’t have the same scruples in this area as I do. Since my fingers have started swelling my wedding rings no longer fit me. I saw a five dollar ring set in Walmart. It was so pretty and looked surprisingly authentic. I bought it, thinking I would tell people it was fake and have some fun. Denny said I shouldn’t tell them.
Denny thought the set looked good enough to pass as my wedding bands.
I really had to think about this. What was he saying? Why spend five thousand dollars when you could get virtually the same thing for five bucks? A lot of emphasis on the virtually.
I wore the set to a banquet. I waited for the opportunity to inform people that they were fake. Nobody seemed to notice the rings, or care.
Later, one ring fell off while I was collecting the table cloths after a banquet. Maybe the dry cleaners found the ring and at first imagined it is real. It wouldn’t have taken long for them to see it was fake.
It made me think there could be more to what Denny says. I mean, how would I feel if it had been a real diamond I lost?