For realsies

Battle of the Brow Furrow February 19, 2014

Like me, you have probably spent hours pondering the qualities you share with Robert Downey, Jr., Hugh Jackman, and George Clooney.  Unlike me, you may not be a woman who has compared brow furrows with these giants of the silver screen, and won.

I’m hardly proud of this fact, but why not? I have not weathered heroin addiction, but I have compulsively raised an eyebrow throughout my adult life.   For this, I wear the battle scars.  For this, I must view ads for the likes of something called “Miracle Blur,” and wonder just exactly what would be blurred upon application. The post-40 eyesight decline provides the same luxury, if only for me.

Truth be told, I do harbor some resentment that guys with real foreheads are perceived as looking sexier and more interesting with their lines, while women run to shoot up some paralysis juice, or at least Miracle Blur themselves to near invisibility.  The eighties female rock stars that “look great” have been stretched and they look good to us because we can’t deal with our own aging and what it actually looks like.  Is looking like we looked in the 80’s really the process we should be undertaking?

We have this huge expanding force of older people, yet we remain youth obsessed.  Oh yeah.  The Fountain of Youth.  Even back when life expectancy was, I don’t know, 35– that quest was worth taking out a few native people along the way.

Excuse me while I order my free Lifestyle Lift brochure.



8 Responses to “Battle of the Brow Furrow”

  1. WSW Says:

    I own a tube of Miracle Blur. Excellent on the eyebrow furrow, not so effective on the memories of my rather unfortunate behavior last Christmas with the in-laws — no matter how much I slather on my husband as he sleeps. Just so you know.

  2. My sister has been selling Mary Kay for years. For Christmas and my birthday, conveniently spaced a little more than five months apart, she inundates me with many “anti-aging” products. I slather myself with these elixirs daily. I’m not so delusional to think that they’re truly turning back the hands of whatever time I have left, but for now, I am well oiled. I wish we were less fountain of youth obsessed and more inclined to accept being middle aged and when that day arrives, officially old. 93-year-old Roger Angell, who still has all of his marbles, has written a terrific piece in the current issue of The New Yorker about being an ancient age.

  3. rossmurray1 Says:

    I too am perma-furrowed.

  4. Ally Bean Says:

    Would you hate me if I told you the first time I commented here that I’ve met George Clooney’s mother– and that Botox is her BFF? Delightful woman, but not exactly natural. Makes me wonder if her son follows her lead.

    • peachyteachy Says:

      Rosemary Clooney? A legend. Interesting.

      • Ally Bean Says:

        No, Rosemary was George’s aunt. This was his mother who is petite and smiling and beautiful. I don’t know for sure about the botox, of course, but sure seemed like her brow was awfully smooth for a woman with a child as old as George!

        [Love your blog, btw. Have been reading along, but never commented before.]

  5. peachyteachy Says:

    Oh wow! Thanks for reading and commenting! Feel free to make corrections when I mess things up again.

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