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Tara

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Signs of the times

I found another gray hair today. That makes four in one week.

Have you ever tried to pluck a gray hair out of your head? If so, then you know how easy it is to pull a batch of 10 or so non-gray ones out. And when it’s all said and done, that pesky gray strand is still hanging in there, stubborn and refusing to give up the fight. In a sense, you sacrificed a dozen good hairs just for the sake of that one undesirable. No wonder so many people go bald.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Thankfully, I haven’t broken out in patches of gray (yet). And at the very least, I can succumb to regular hair colorings if and when I do. Still, I’m 28 years young (soon to be 29), and I can’t believe I’m seeing such signs of my aging body so soon. Don’t you have to be “over the hill” before this type of things hits you? Apparently not.

I stepped out of the shower yesterday, which is something I don’t normally put much thought into. After all, what’s the big deal? You dry off, comb your hair, slip into your bathrobe, and you’re clean. So what? But for some reason, in this particular instance, I realized one thing…

“It is taking me forever to get ready.”

Folks – I have six different creams in my beauty regime…six. And all of them are necessary in order for me to even remotely look like a human being. Once upon a time, my after-shower routine involved a generous dosing of body lotion, followed by a special moisturizer for my face. After all, the facial skin is much more sensitive, and requires a special concoction tailored just for it.

Today, I not only have the body and facial lotion, but I also have:

• Cracked-heel cream: A concentrated moisturizer designed specifically for crusty feet that (if you don’t apply this treatment) will grab onto every fiber of the carpet as you walk across it.
• Topical ointment: For the onset of what appears to be Rosacea, which is bound and determined to make my nose look like Rudolph’s. Thank God for concealer.
• Under-eye treatment: Because “beauty sleep” no longer seems to be enough to do away with those dingy dark circles.
• Hand cream: Because there’s nothing sexy about bleeding cuticles.

Add onto all of this the protective spray to keep my hair from frying under the gun and iron, and it takes me a good 20 minutes or so to get “beautified.” Throw the actual shower into the mix, and my overall body-cleansing experience takes upwards to 40 minutes. And don’t even get me started on makeup and clothing.

“I enjoy being a girl!” Sure you do Peggy Lee…you have a personal stylist.

But I suppose I should shut up and be grateful. After all, there are people worldwide starving for just a scrap of food, and here I am complaining about the bounty of beauty products at my disposal. And I am grateful. I don’t know what I’d do without my foot shaver. That’s right, ladies! If you thought razors were solely for your legs, you’d be mistaken.

I could get into it, if you want.

Realizations such as this make it apparent that there will never be equal rights between the sexes. There’s nothing sexier than a five-o’clock shadow on a man, and the more calloused his hands are, the more “hard working” he is. A touch of gray at his temples is a sign of maturity and dignity, and even a few wrinkles are forgivable if he’s man enough to carry them just right.

With the exception of the calloused hands, I just described George Clooney.

Yes – the older a man gets, the more desirable he becomes, but the opposite seems to be true for females. Women are expected to stay soft and smooth until the day they die, which is practically impossible. How do you fight age? Just like death, it’s bound to find us all at one point or another.

That’s about as deep as I get on the subject. And in fact, after all is said and done, I guess I really do enjoy being a girl. I don’t know that I could ever give up coloring my nails and curling my hair. My face is like a blank canvas, and I love being the artist who can decorate it any way I like. And how could I forget the clothes? These are the cherry on top of the sundae called the female body.

Unarguably the most beautiful of God’s creations.