Wrinkles in Time

I have eye wrinkles. Not wrinkles around my eye--I mean, yes, I have those, but I'm talking about wrinkles in the eye. The left eye, to be precise. And actually only one wrinkle, but big enough, considering that the eye is, you know, really small. (If you peer closely at my eye, you can see the wrinkle, by the way. It's fascinating, in an oh-ick sort of way.) Anyway, this big wrinkle in my small eye means I have to settle for 20/30 vision in contact lenses--"good enough," said the eye doctor. Clearly I've reached the age where "good enough" is as good as it gets.

Meanwhile, there are the more noticeable wrinkles around the eye. And scattered around the forehead. And clustered around the lips. But--not for long! Cruising thru Macy's on my way out of the mall Saturday, I remembered I needed blusher. Zipped by the Clinique counter. Got Super-Efficient Aging Saleslady with Frightening Amounts of Eye Makeup. She takes one look at me and says, "Now I'm sure you've heard about our new amazing wrinkle corrector."

Well, no, have to admit I've been slightly distracted by the temporary presence of college son. And the start of the school year. And the occasional yet increasingly frequent existential crisis. And the Gulf oil spill. And headaches. And my new commitment to pursuing life as a Total Sex Goddess. And the obvious conflict between those last two.

Of course I don't admit to Scary Saleslady that I haven't been keeping up with the latest breakthroughs in skin care. I just nod. So of course I'm doomed. I buy not only blusher but also a bottle of "Repairwear Laser Focus." Now, by the standards of department-store anti-aging cosmetics, "Repairwear" (not sure where the laser comes in, no obvious laser in the package) is not all that expensive. $40. But that's more than twice as much as I've ever spent for skin care.

Previously, that record was held by an English product: Boots' "Protect and Defend." No. That's not right. "Protect and Survive." No, shoot, that was the name of the English government's official civil defense campaign of the early 1980s--how to survive a nuclear bombing. "Protect and Perfect"! That's it. (I just think of it as "Lock and Load." )

Does it really work? Um, well, I admit that year by year, I look older. But I tell myself that without "Protect and Perfect," I'd look really old. I do have moments of sanity, however, when I recognize that all of this is about as useful as covering your windows with black paper and sandbagging your doorways so that you'll survive a nuclear holocaust.

The thing is, isn't it better to die deluded?