Swiftly Fly the Years
Sobering thought: When for the fifth time in as many months, you look at a candid snapshot someone has taken of you and exclaim "I look so tired in this picture!" it's time to consider whether the fault might not lie with the camera.
posted by Unknown at 12:11 PM
10 Comments:
Uh, me too. If you figure out how to fix that, let me know. Soft-focus lens implants? They begin to make more and more sense.
Ironic you should post this now as I'm just off to buy a pair of freaking READING GLASSES.
Sleep Number Bed! Unfortunately, the price may keep you awake at night. Plus there's the slide down the hill if your partner is a 20 and you are an 80. And the annoying disappearing LED when you're trying to adjust the firmness. OH! And then there's that time that the dog though the air tube was a toy.
Uh, nevermind. Ambien is cheaper and more reliable.
That's got to be along the same lines as the people at work who yesterday kept going "what did you do differently today? You look pretty!"
Uhh...so I take it that the word "pretty" doesn't normally apply to my appearance.
Jerks.
Kate,
I get, "You have such a pretty FACE," then one cringing at the rest of me. Doesn't feel like a compliment. (I'm a chubby girl. hehe)
Quinn,
You look lovely. You shouldn't worry. :)
I know Quinn...I'm finding I need more than just Oil Of Olay..I need Oil of Ay Yi Yi :)
Peace ~ Rene
I am old. Ish. Fine. Old. I was tired all the danged time. Looked worse than usual. Went to my doc for normal checkup and bloodwork found a huge problem with Vitamin D. Not nearly enough - dangerous low levels. Huh? We are seriously healthy eaters around here, but something got whacked off apparently in my Vitamin D retention pond or whatever. So, once a week, I take a prescriptive dose of the stuff. I look better and feel great! Still old, so I am waiting for the way-cool drop twenty years miracle to kick in.
LOL Rene - would they sell that at the Rite Aid? Cause I might need to trade up my Oil of Olay too.
Huh. A few weeks ago I looked into the mirror, I mean really looked, and wondered, "Who the hell is that middle-aged woman staring back at me? Where did she come from?" Wrinkles? Check. Eye baggage? Check. Grey hair... well, only Miss Clairol knows for sure. Why won't she go away and let the real, young, perky me come back??
It's the camera Quinn. It's ALWAYS the camera.
I say this as someone born the same year as you - and evidently has her picture taken by the same freakin camera.
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