Published Thursday, April 10, 2008 1:49 PM
Updated Thursday, April 10, 2008 1:50 PM

 

Inklings 04/11/08

Chin feathers and knuckle bumps


“Little pig, little pig, won’t you let me come in?” I growled, taking the part of the big bad wolf in this favorite tale of our granddaughter Anna, then three. “No, no,” she chimed in, reciting the lines by heart, “not by the hair of my chinny chin chin.” Getting into the spirit of reenactment, she stroked her jaw line and then reached up to mine. Before I could begin huffing and puffing and blowing the house in, Anna looked me straight in the eye and said delightedly in her best piggy squeal, “Gran Barbara, you have hairs on your chinny chin chin too!”

Drat children! They not only say the darndest things, they say the truest. This little imp must have eagle eyed vision, I thought, reaching for my magnifying mirror. Immediately I wished I hadn’t. There before me, sprouted an abundant crop of white stubble. And horror above horrors: a couple of those strands looked thick and black and seemed to curl into a kind of feminine goatee. Obviously more rigorous scrutiny was called for. The senior body can betray you in limitless ways – and quickly too.

I can just about remember the junior body. As a teenager I actually had a peaches and cream complexion which I diligently swathed daily with pounds of makeup – moisturizer slathered over dewy skin, foundation covering an unmarked face and rouge heightening apple colored cheeks. I went through dozens of eyelash curlers and cakes and cakes of mascara and I never had to a pluck single brow or any other body part.

Somebody has suggested that life should be lived in reverse: you should be born old and then grow young. That path could have its own pitfalls. Practically, of course, you have to make the best of what you’ve got. This includes irritations like aches and pains and hair – either disappearing, turning white or gray or growing profusely where you don’t want it, like in noses or ears. Purple splotches from veins and medicine induced bruising are equal opportunity pests. Another senior challenge – referred to blithely in cosmetic ads as “age spots”– is the bane of many of us. Then there are knuckle bumps. These can appear randomly as warts or arrive courtesy of swelling joints. You can’t hide either one.

Once at the grocery store, I reached into a bin to select the best head of cabbage. Another, little older, ole lady stood next to me doing the same thing, and observed, “Oh, I see you have arthritis too, honey.” She fanned out her hand and showed me two fingers going two very different ways and big bulges cresting three knuckles. “I have such fun with these,” she giggled. “I absolutely love to give directions. You should see people’s faces when they try to figure out which way I’m pointing!” She chuckled again, poked my arm with unexpected gusto and shifted her grocery cart briskly on to the fresh fruit aisle.

Rascals can be young or old. But I’ve learned from them both. It’s all about living – and doing it with glee!