Goop” is what my dad called mom’s anti-aging products—usually just after he kissed her and got a taste of something that didn’t appeal to him. (Perhaps bacon flavored facial creams would have a market?)
My mom, was a well freckled red-head. (She would say “auburn”. I was known to say “carrot-colored” until I learned tact.) When she died in her seventies, her salt and pepper hair was salt and chili peppers, and her skin was flawless—soft, unlined, and beautiful.