Twelve days into the new year and so far, so good, but I'm thinking I need a facial.  Last evening we attended a surprise party for my aunt; it was a wonderful time and she was truly surprised.  Her kids pulled it off and I was grateful to be a part of the festivities.  She was surrounded by friends and her whole family, which includes six grandchildren.   She was all smiles, from ear to ear, looking beautiful and .... really ... youthful.  She's 60.  That's six, zero.  Three children.  Six grandchildren.

Shut up!

One week earlier I celebrated my 45th birthday in Chicago with some dear friends.  It was a fabulous time and Greg and I enjoyed a wonderful weekend away.  (Thank you, Marie, for the picture.)Even though it was ridiculously, bitter cold and we were being hit with an arctic winter storm that came in all the way from Siberia.   I don't know....... it was COLD.  In spite of the deep freeze and snow storm, we still managed to have a great time and make it home safely back around the pond.

Turning 45 was a breeze, it's truly just a number to me.  I feel like I'm 25 and some can attest to the fact I may sometimes act 25.  Hey, I gave up the Abercrombie moons ago - no one likes the old, creepy guy wearing A&F and Hollister.  Not pretty.  But I do admit to wearing skinny jeans occasionally.  I've never really had a problem with birthdays, with the exception of my 30th--now that was traumatic.  I think we just start to figure out who we are in our later 20's but have yet to arrive and all of a sudden our twenties are snatch from under us.  At least for me, turning 30, I turned a big first corner--I grew up some and put on my big boy panties.  

But last night, coming home and seeing all the pictures posted on Facebook of my aunt and I together, close together, side by side, cheek to cheek.  Wow.  She's beautiful and, well, looks younger than me.

Shut up!

Now, my parents even look great for being in their early sixties.  My mom is beautiful and youthful.  This is a shot of them taken just a few weeks ago. 

So, what is going on here?  Come on, I moisturize!  I use Sisley for Christ's sake.  It's no secret I've had my chin-neck done.  But what is with the old-man, skinny cheeks?  And the deeper, furrow brow lines?  Don't I have enough to keep up with, enough to do to maintain all this?  I mean, hell, if anyone knew the measures I have to take to keep this train going, they'd be exhausted.  I work out, weight lifting four days a week.  I walk every day.  I run.  I eat right.  I don't smoke.  I haven't touched alcohol in over 20 years.  And I still wear my age and some change.

Shut up!

Wrinkles aside, it's the hair that gives me angina.  As I age, I get more hair, growing in more places--places hair ought not grow and in white, silver and various shades of gray.  Ear hair.  Nose hair, both inside and out.  Back hair.  Shoulder hair.   My pits have invaded the upper back sides of my arms.  Manscaping?  Hell, sometimes I have to go to my garage to complete the task.  I get waxed at the beginning of beach season about once a year--it's all I can take.  It's NOT for sissies!

I'm a sissy.

Shut up!

Between the nose hair and ear hair, I don't know which curse is worse.  I have nose hairs that are pure white.  White.  Have you ever plucked a nose hair?  Ouch!  But if I don't keep up on this, I look like I've been snorting a couple of lines.  Don't get me started about my eyebrows.  One time, I plucked a hair from my ear lobe that I swear was THREE inches long--just noticed it one day while out in public, scratching my ear lobe in line at a Meijer's .  Left my cart and ran looking for a men's room.  Come on, I'm a bit OCD, why?!

All this body hair began appearing and growing when I was about 19 and has never stopped.  I remember my first few chest hairs while in bootcamp.  I wish I could have directed it when it started to show up, direct it where I wanted it to grow.  Um, legs, I could use more.  No, not here, this section is closed.  The nose and ears are off limits.  We have several seats up top and at the front of the hairline, please.  And I wish I could stop it.  The house is full, we're at maximum capacity.

But it keeps growing, it silvers, it grays.  Sometimes I take a break from all the trimming, tweezing, plucking, shaving and go all yeti.  I did this recently during the government shutdown and through much of no-shave November.  It didn't last and took more than an hour to groom; I swear I felt five pounds lighter when the hair came off.

They say vanity has its price, I think I pay more than my share.

The Yeti of West Michigan