I Feel Bad About My Neck
I Feel Bad About My Neck is the title of a book that Kay and Gary gave me for Christmas or birthday Ė those two events seem to run together. I am quite sure that Kay picked it out. I donít think that anyone would choose to give his future mother-in-law a book with that title, unless one was a sadist or a misogynist, or perhaps a plastic surgeon. Since Gary is none of those, we assume it was Kay. In that case, it was hilariously funny, as far as I have read. I have already called two sisters and told them about the book.
The author of the book (Nora Ephron) says that according to her dermatologist, the neck starts to go at 43 and thatís it. That, of course, explains the Katherine Hepburn scarves, the Diane Keaton turtlenecks, and the upturned collars on older women. I never thought much about it but I have noticed that pictures from a certain angle are not flattering. Not only is there the wattle on the neck Ė a term I have only used heretofore to describe a turkey Ė but there is the arm-dangle. That is a new term from one of my birthday cards Ė thank you Anita. I have noticed that there is a general relaxation, shall we say, of many parts of the body, from the eyelids on down. I wonít bother to list them all.
I think in the past women didnít worry so much about how they aged outside as perhaps how they aged inside. There was a dignity and acceptance of the silver hair, the lined face, the softened body. Women didnít worry so much about their advancing age.
We often hear the political pundits talk about the legacy of the president and one never hears about their physical condition or how they look. They talk about their accomplishments, their philosophy, and their impact on the world. I think that is what I will aim for, instead of worrying about my neck.
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