Chicken skin vs. muscles.....

Maybe the increased muscularity of my arms will counteract the chicken skin.

I can only hope.

If you recall, I noted this cruel irony when I started this Aged to Perfection journey a couple of years ago. (See  http://agedtoperfectiondeborahhansen.blogspot.com/2010/11/chicken-skin-and-other-indignities.html for a reminder.) My arms were as toned as they had ever been, but their outer covering looked like the skin of a chicken that was sitting in my frig, the main course for dinner waiting to be cooked. 

But now it’s worse: my skin looks like that everywhere on my body. I can remember seeing older women with this crumpled up skin on their arms and thighs, wondering why in the world they didn’t DO SOMETHING about it! I was almost offended, like I shouldn’t have to look at all that “elderly” skin, Surely there was something that could be done to fix it….right?

Ouch. Now I am one of THEM. Women of a certain age with crinkly skin.

I recently signed up for a year of twice-weekly sessions with a personal trainer at my gym. I had to do something. Unless I can inject large doses of collagen directly into my flabby skin, I have no choice. 

What in the world is a personal trainer going to do about my crepey skin, you might ask? Especially a man who is probably half my age (at least), someone who won’t ever truly understand the depth of this problem? After all…he’s a man. And young. He won’t face this for decades, if ever. (Probably by that time they’ll have rolls of new skin that you can buy at Wal-Mart or on the Internet. Isn’t technology wonderful? A little late, but extraordinary.)

Here’s what I thought: let’s build these arms up with some more muscle and fill that skin and stretch it out. I’m not sure what I’ll do with the rest of me, but at least I can start by getting rid of the barnyard fowl hanging off my arms. 

If nothing else, you won’t want to mess with me in a dark alley. I'll be able to kick butt, plus I'll be really angry that all this torture didn't work.

Great ideas originate in the muscles.

Thomas Edison

Merry holidays, fa-la-la-la

O Holy Night.....

The Sacred Festival of Lights....

Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays.....

The media frenzy as we approach primaries.....

More bizarre weather events around the globe.....

So much to attend to in the world as we move through the winter solstice....

All of it critical to our survival as a country, as a conglomeration of nations, as a planet.

Our attention should be focused on all of these momentous events, each of us adding our voices to those of our neighbors, both next door and across the globe.  Right?

How long have you been reading this column, anyway? You should know better than that....

I DO want to focus on what's concerning me, the matter that keeps me awake at night, distressed and full of angst. It's these tiny bumps that have appeared all over my shins. Kind of like barnacles on the underside of a boat, but these have affixed themselves to the front of my legs, where everyone can see them. Now, THAT'S concerning me.

Plus, now I find out that other people experience the same thing as the aging process sneaks up on them and smacks them right between the eyes, laughing and pointing as we all look on in horror to our bodies morph and slide and....well, those of you who have been through this know what I'm talking about, don't  you? The least some of you could have done, though, was TELL the rest of us that this was going to happen. 


At first I thought I'd just have to live with these pesky adhesions, but then I Googled the situation. And do you know what I found out? You can scrape them off with a rough sponge, just like those little boat freeloaders can be scraped from the hull of a boat. Sweet.....I would never have thought of trying that.


Bet you didn't know that, either, did you? That's because people who have already gone down the road of birthday cakes burning to a crisp are hiding all of this information for some reason, holding it close to their drooping chests or bent backs, chuckling and whispering with glee, "Just wait.....!" until the next catastrophe strikes, the one that plays even more havoc on our bodies or our minds. 

So, go ahead and argue about whether to say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays, or which Republican is going to come out on top when the tear gas clears and the blood stops flowing. For me, I'm going to get out my little loofah and start scrubbing.

Merry holidays, ya'll.

Age wrinkles the body. Quitting wrinkles the soul.

Douglas MacArthur