How the Cookie Crumbles

Life and scribbles on the far side of SIXTY-FIVE

Birds of a Feather


There are women my age whose hair is white but who still have dark eyebrows. Alas, I have dark hair but sparse white eyebrows. Which would you rather have? Hair you could always colour if you wish; not so much your thinning eyebrows. Now every morning I must be artistic to painfully paint on twin lines, one over each eye. Some days I’m successful, artistically speaking.

Oh, the things that are changing and out of my control. Luckily, and possibly due to generous application of ‘magic’ lotions, my skin is still holding up. On the other hand, it might just be good genes. Both my grandmother and mother had good skin. I happened to mention to an acquaintance recently that she had good skin for a babe our age. She confessed it’s because she puts ‘crap’ on her face. So what’s wrong with getting a little help along the way? That’s what drugstores are for. Aren’t they also in the business of a steady supply of legal drugs? Later. Of course, later. Not just yet.

I dislike the words’ crows feet’ but  I can happily say mine are light and aren’t exactly ingrained  into my skin yet. My smile lines aren’t etched too deeply either. However, since my teenage years and all the seriousness that involved, I’ve developed deep craters in my forehead—signs of a deep thinker I’m sure. These days I try not to look so serious or get lost in thought too often—not because those etchings become so prominent—but so that I won’t get lost indeed and forget where I’m supposed to be or what I’m supposedly doing.

Since beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, it’s a good thing all my friends and I are in the same boat. It’s not that misery loves company, it’s birds of a feather. It’s not getting older that’s scarey, it’s losing good health, mobility, flexibility, your sense of humour, your memory. You can’t avoid life, can you? The best you can do is not take yourself too seriously because you’re not going to get outta here alive baby. Make the most of it. With compassionate friends. With joy and exuberance. Loved. Understood. Cared for. Your friends, who understand you, are your anchor in the storm as only birds of a feather can.

Author: Let's CUT the Crap!

I'm getting a little LONG in the tooth and have things to say about---ouch---AGEing. I believe it's certainly a state of mind but sometimes it's nice to hear that you're NORMAL. I enjoy reading by the truckload. I'm a grandma but I don't feel OLD although I'm not so young anymore. My plan is to stick it out as long as I can on this lovely planet and only will leave it kicking and screaming!

4 thoughts on “Birds of a Feather

  1. Love this post! Well said, and so true!


  2. Like you, my eyebrows, that once were full and dark, are now pale and wispy. Unlike you, my hair is white–has been for years, thanks to genetics from my father’s side of the family. But now something strange is happening–the other day my daughter and I were standing in the sunlight and she said,”Mom, you have dark hair mixed in with the white.” I thought she was joking, so I asked her to pull one out and show me. She did, and lo and behold–it was dark brown, and coarser than my white hair. What on earth is going on? Can a person’s hair suddenly turn brown, the way we hear of someone’s hair turning white after a scare? I checked the mirror when I got back to my daughter’s apartment…and yes, there they are, stray brown hairs sticking up willy-nilly on my head…each one with a mind of its own, it seems.
    I’ll let you know how this progresses, and if I have to start coloring my hair to make it either all white again or all brown…life would be boring if it wasn’t changing all the time though, wouldn’t it? I enjoy your posts and look forward to reading more of them.


  3. Hmm. That’s a new one. What if everything is starting to change back? What would you do? Your colouring looks great with your hair colour. On the other hand, my dark hair is too dark for my now much lighter skin (OK, PALE). I get blonde highlights put in to soften the harshness. Must be a female thing that we spend so much time being so observant about the least little change in our personal appearance. Like you said, life WOULD be boring…

    I confess I also enjoy reading your posts and look forward to reading them.