a woman of a particular age

I never knew what that meant, a particular age.

Then I got there, to that particular age. I’m not sure that it connotes an actual number, but more a state of being.

All my life I’ve looked 35. Not just any 35, but a 35 year old school teacher. It sucked when I was 11, but  became advantageous when I was still underaged and wanting to buy booze. It didn’t make me big bucks when I worked in the Naked for Money business, because I looked, well, I looked solid & reliable. Which is what you’re looking for in your accountant, but not in your hoochie cooch girl. It was, however, helpful when I switched to the Sitting in a Cubicle for Money business where they’re actually looking for solid and reliable. Finally, I’d found a place where my look matched what was expected of me.

I stayed looking 35 well into my late 40s, which was just lovely. Then I got sick, really sick and two bouts in the hospital and extended steroid treatments really took their toll and suddenly, I was ten years older, or more. I used to love to tell people my real age because they never believed me. When I was 45, there was no way you could imagine me being older than…you guessed it, 35. Those surprised looks have since gone away.

Now I look my age. I am a woman of a particular age. And that particular age is an age that want’s to look ten years younger again.

And this my friends, is why God invented Photoshop (expensive). Or Gimp (free). And any number of online tutorials on how to manipulate images, soften edges, gentle the ravages of time. Do it. Learn it. It’s cheaper and healthier than a face lift. You can change your mind at any time, and your hair color, your eye color, the size and shape of your breasts.

Let me stop talking – the evidence speaks for itself, so you be the judge.

Now if someone could just invent a Photoshop suit one could wear out and about….