The Laws of Youth

Vanity“Energized Skin is Younger Looking Skin”

Today I saw this slogan for Olay® Regenerist™ in a magazine. Beautiful full-color ad of course, complete with sparkly motes emanating from the open jar of product.

Specialty moisturizers appeal to the turn-back-the-clock vanity in all of us. Women are expected to hold onto youth as long as they can—or there may be consequences. Men also are using products to keep the outside more appealing to a wider age group. The fountain of youth exists. Billions of dollars in revenue speak for themselves.

There is a catch. When you stop using their $30+ product, the etching of emotion, exposure and time reassert themselves. I’ve indulged in one of these vanity-boosting creams. That was before my husband pointed out the inevitability of reversion.

My life has been physically demanding, emotionally varied and I’m not 17 anymore (please, oh please, don’t make me go back!). I often scrub at my eyes with my hands when I cry. I squinch my eyes because sunglasses aren’t something I am used to. I catch myself whole-face frowning. I turn my face to the sun. I’m not Sleeping Beauty, always sleeping face up to avoid the creasing weight of my head on a pillow.

And each time I smile there is an undeniable energy that exceeds the brightness any product could provide. My eyes shine with emotion. My skin is uplifted.

Aged woman with curlers in her hair and a bright smile.

Our most regenerating, rejuvenating revitalizing product is payed for with genuine emotion that comes from spending our time among the people who love and accept us, creases and all. I can afford that for the rest of my life, and I’m pretty sure I’ll not abandon my smile at some future date.

©2014 Sandra R. Davidson


From Pedestrian to Riches

Some may have seen Facebook® posts stating my confustication when others say they read in the bathroom. The only time I’m in there long enough to read anything is when I’m in a bubble bath. To heck with reading in a bubble bath!

To my delight, those who do read in the loo have encouraged a book series entitled, “Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader.” Each book has some witty title that clues you into a loose theme (I’m not apologizing for any puns—they started it). The series is celebrating its 25 year. At this point, I believe we have every book in the series and they are stored in the guest room.

My husband has been rereading some when he comes to bed too tired to dig into a National Geographic, Smithsonian or other demanding material. He hmms, shakes his head, snorts, outright laughs; I pointedly look his direction and he cues up his reading voice by finishing any Jelly Belly® jelly beans in his mouth.

Each volume has a bit of unrelated text in the footer area of each page. These are delightful.

The most recent footer, I’m in love with it:
Why did French women wear high heels in the 1600s? To show they were too rich to walk.

Hows about that for a little history? Heels are one of my peeves due to the permanent damage done to the many and delicate bones of the foot.

Heels two inches and more: try to limit to three days a week and as few hours at a time as you can (take them off at your desk, bring along cross trainers when you realize you’ll be climbing and descending staircases and walking for exercise). Two inches and less are everyday dress and are still sexy. (I’d never pay more than $150 for a pair of shoes and they’d better dance for me too.)

©2013 Sandra Davidson

Jimmy Choo heels, Cosmic in Navy

Six inches and more? Really, Jimmy, you should wear these ten hours every day.