I’ve spent more time thinking about aging these past few days than I have the past few years, likely due to my impending birthday.
Everyone, it seems, is getting injected with something to plump up lips and cheeks, and to erase those pesky lines. I fear that at soon-to-be-47, I may be the last un-injected woman in the Western hemisphere.
Being pop-culture obsessed, I watch with horror as one good actress after another fills her face with so much shit that it can no longer move. Emoting is a pretty big requirement of the job, so it seems counterproductive to freeze your face to the point that it becomes immobile.
It’s also completely creepy.
And then there’s my girl-crush, Susan Sarandon, a total bad-ass – and the best example of aging with grace that I can think of. Strong, beautiful, real. And confident enough to embrace her lines, her curves, her age – and still be dead sexy in the process – at 67 years old. 67! Sexy bitch.
The ruins of this formerly stately home, in Crete, inspired today’s Haiku. So did Susan. And, no, I’m not inferring that she is in ruins. The contrary.