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.
(The video is below)
Over time, many parts of our physical person begin to wrinkle and droop. Yes, there are procedures that some have opted for - botox, fillers, lasers, plumps and lifts. We (Barb & Lynnelle) have opted for the less invasive (and less expensive) attack on the effects of aging. In this post we're talking about the eyelids. Women over 60, or even earlier for most of us, begin to see less space between our eyebrows and lash line. (this is NOT the case for those who have undergone the knife, where the opposite is more likely to be true) In addition to less distance, the eyelid itself is slowly disappearing. Sort of like the icecap at the North Pole, at first you don't notice it but, one day you wake up and... it's half gone and going f.a.s.t.
...or, we should say, Anti-Aging Gimmicks...
My Friend for Life, Cathy, and I were walking down the street, chatting mostly, but looking into the shops, too. The men were wandering ahead of us, intent on finding FOOD (that is best uttered fiercely while smashing one’s fist into one’s chest. They were hungry.) Cathy was distracted by (it must be said) an attractive younger man offering free soap. After an encounter in Key West, I have learned to avoid these offers (there are two such stores on St. George Street in St. Augustine). Cathy was lured into the shop to “check out the soap” while I whispered, “This stuff is really expensive.”
Do you remember the original “Dear Abby”? That's where I learned of the “Pencil Test” pertaining to deciding whether or not to wear a bra. She said that if you could put a pencil under your braless boob and it stayed, you needed a bra. Recently, the best reference I could find online was in Urban Dictionary and had no mention of Dear Abby. I guess one sign of age is when your prior references are now just urban legends. Another sign is that it's more difficult to find good, reasonably priced bras for women over 60. (Or at least this woman.)
When I was a perky, just blooming 14-year-old, I enjoyed a carefree summer of halter tops. Since then, I've never been without a bra in public. By the time my college dorm mate and I conducted the pencil-under-boob test I had a perky C-cup. Even though the pencil fell to the floor immediately—I told her I was not comfortable going braless because, “They just move around too much.”