Cassie v. Age

Part I: Neutrogena Clinical

In forty-four days I will entering a territory known as “my late thirties” otherwise known as Happy 37th Birthday. As a side note, how the hell did this happen? Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was turning twenty-one at Axis and dancing to alternative music while declining numerous offers of Zima with Chambord? It was. But now, my vagina has expelled two life forms, I am what Oprah would classify as “perimenopausal” and bangs a/k/a forehead wrinkle covers are about two minutes from my future. However, I resolve to go down fighting. And by fighting, I mean spending large sums of money on products that promise antiwrinkling age defiance. Truthfully due to a combination of genetics, not much sun exposure, the heavy consumption of water and almost maniacal moisturizing since the age of eighteen, I think I have done good thus far. But I will not be lax in this fight, this is where it gets dirty. Almost forty demands action.

Yesterday in Walgreens, I once again passed the Neutrogena Clinical Day Moisturizing combination promising a firmer more youthful look. I have read the reviews on this stuff, and was impressed, but the $39.99 price tag was what I would say was a bit “heavy”. Then I remembered the time where spending $75.00 each on Clarins Day and Night Cream was nothing. The magical time prior to kids and a mortgage, where money went to clothes, shoes, booze and skincare. I miss you so! So I forked over the money for my ION2 complex fountain of youth.

Today after my run of 6.1 miles - I would like to say that again because it makes me happy - AFTER MY 6.1 MILE RUN and shower, I stood under the harsh fluorescent lamps of the office showers. Those lights suck. I applied the quoted “dime size” amount of the gel serum covering my face and neck. It is gray and goes on like liquid silk. Then the application of the “dime size” activating cream. Oh la la. I can say after one attempt that I have not felt softness like this since the rubbing of Owen’s ass after his horrifying meconium poop. My face feels like a baby’s ass people. In case you don’t have a baby, that is soft. Very soft. Like the kind of soft you think clouds must feel like. My face feels like clouds.

Day One of the Neutrogena Clinical Day Cream Test has gone well. We shall see what the next days shall bring. But I am hoping pregnancy glow skin. Cause that shit was the best.

Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory of the Coming Of Old Age

For the past few weeks, I have been suffering from pretty intense headaches that make their way from dull ache to blinding pain back to dull ache, so an eye doctor appointment was made because my last visit was almost three years ago. I’ll admit that my first thought was I had some sort of stroke or aneurysm, but then I figured that this was am impossibility not due to the unlikely chances, but the simple fact an IUD was removed from my gut not three weeks ago. God could not be that cruel. I think this way often, my house was burned in a fire in 1991 so there is no way in hell my house could ever catch fire again. Right? That would be just too terrible. But then you hear about these people who have been struck by lightening twice, and a rethinking my position starts. At the eye doctor yesterday, after a series of brutal tests. My favorite being the eye puff one. Man, is that not the most awesome thing ever? I want that job. You tell a person to blink, open their eyes as wide as they can and then puff some air in their eye at any given moment. There is no warning, just boom, eye puff. I love it. I explained to the doctor about my headaches, and she then said “Are you tired?” Am I tired? Hmmm, let me think about this. Well I have an almost three year old son, and a six month old daughter who has never gone 4.5 hours between feedings. I don’t think tired is quite the word to describe me, walking dead, zombified and oogly dark circle eyes all much better. It was there that the doctor informed of the need to under script my glasses for reading and the computer. Under script? Under script? You mean reading glasses! Yes, that is what she meant. I am thirty-five years old, soon to be thirty-six years old at the end October and was just told I needed reading glasses. After hearing the news, John said “You are an Old Hag.” Indeed, John. Indeed.