Huhn, I thought. What on earth has been pushing THERE?!
Because obviously, it couldn’t be a wrinkle. Wrinkles don’t just appear like that. Not canyon-style ones, anyway. Fine lines, sure, whatever, but the kind where you can feel them when you run your finger over them, even if you’re making a really silly face trying to smooth the skin?
Nah. They don’t just appear like that. Obviously my glasses were sitting funny on my face or something.
Only it was still there the next day.
I tried to remember if I’d run into something – like, say, the edge of a ruler. Yeah. That might do it. A good direct smack from the edge of a ruler might have put that line there. And…cause memory loss…right? Smacks to the head do that, right?
Suuuuuuure they do…
Eventually, though, I had to face the awful truth: It’s a wrinkle. A real, true, honest, deep wrinkle.
That isn’t what bothers me, though. What bothers me is that it is definitely a frown line.
Which, you know, gah. So not fair. I spend 95% of my time laughing, but do I get a laugh-wrinkle? No. I get a frown line.
Naturally, I turned to my beloved husband, my soul mate, my sensitive partner in all things Life, and went, “WAH, FROWN LINE!!!”
To which he rejoined, “But honey, you’ve had all those wrinkly laugh lines all around your eyes for years! It’s not like the frown one is the first one you’ve gotten or something! And those really cute ones around your mouth, they've been there forever!”
Oh yes, he did. And then proceeded to catalog every fine line and saggy bit of my face for me.
His funeral is Thursday.
In lieu of flowers, please send beer.
And wrinkle cream.