I am in a race to finish my next book. Still have too far to go, but I’m giving it all I’ve got. As I flip my calendar over to April, I’m getting a black marker to check off those days as I head toward D-Day. I received back cover and catalog copy for this book today to correct and approve. Reading it made me feel good about the book, too.
Monday nights I like to watch Dancing With the Stars. I love to dance, although these days, it is just me and the dog, who often starts barking like crazy, as if to say, “Please stop, Mom! You look nuts!” Twenty years ago, I would have loved to be a “star” on this show. Of course, I would have fainted long before Marie Osmond did last year.
Priscilla Presley is the oldest female contestant they have ever had on the show, and I have to give her high marks for giving it a go. But is she becoming the next cosmetic surgery nightmare, in the footsteps of Joan Rivers? There is something very disturbing about her looks that just makes my heart hurt. Those cheekbones. Those weird lips. It’s not the way she looked when she married Elvis or when she starred in Dallas.
Not that I don’t understand the urge to get a facelift. I wouldn’t mind firmer skin. I decided to do a facial peel a couple of weeks ago. Well, let me tell you. Peeling it off was not a pretty sight. The skin under my eyes pulled out about two feet. Okay, that is an exaggeration, but it looked like it was going to pull out that far. It was positively frightening!!! What if it hadn’t gone back to where it belonged?
But still, I have to wonder what drives women to go to such extremes to look younger. There is something to be said for growing old gracefully — and naturally. Isn’t there?