As it sometimes happens when one trolls the interwebs, I got stuck drilling into a site: http://www.awfulplasticsurgery.com/. Kind of like reading an entire copy of Weekly World News - I feel like I should go exercise and eat some fruit, maybe have a high colonic or something. But it's also oddly germane to a brief exchange I had with a friend last night. He is a perfectly lovely man in his 60s, much better looking than most, and English to boot, which as we Yanks know, is currency here in the old U.S. of A. He was off to drown his sorrows because his 26 year old girlfriend had called things off. This bugged me on a variety of levels. I was thinking about it as I watered the back garden and wasn't paying attention and stepped in one of the 'Send me a postcard from China' dirt bath holes the chickens had dug and fell into it, and skinned my knees. Which after I figured out I didn't break a hip or anything made me laugh. But back to my friend. While I admire his vitality in participating in this May-October situation, it also kicks up an old feeling of injustice. If the situation were say, me and an 20 year old, as that would be the same time span, I'd be getting cougar-this and ew-that's-gross that. Not that that scenario is tempting in the slightest. When I left my last husband, I was in my 40's. And I found the only men I was attracted to were 27. Every one of them. This spooked me enough to analyze it, and my best arm chair analysis gave me this: 27 (or 26....) is the high water mark of youth and beauty. When you think of all the dead rocks stars and such who died at 27, you begin to see it truly as a peak. And what I realized was I wasn't so much attracted to these men, as I was to some echo of me in my prime. We hate to see our youth fade, hence the relevance of page after page of horrible plastic surgery in a fruitless attempt to abay the inevitable. So, to my friend, I say: grow up! No, not really. There are many ways to stay young that don't involve a scalpel or schtupping your granddaughter. But I don't blame him: I don't find people my own age attractive, either. As it sometimes happens when one trolls the interwebs, I got stuck drilling into a site: http://www.awfulplasticsurgery.com/. Kind of like reading an entire copy of Weekly World News - I feel like I should go exercise and eat some fruit, maybe have a high colonic or something. But it's also oddly germane to a brief exchange I had with a friend last night. He is a perfectly lovely man in his 60s, much better looking than most, and English to boot, which as we Yanks know, is currency here in the old U.S. of A. He was off to drown his sorrows because his 26 year old girlfriend had called things off. This bugged me on a variety of levels. I was thinking about it as I watered the back garden and wasn't paying attention and stepped in one of the 'Send me a postcard from China' dirt bath holes the chickens had dug and fell into it, and skinned my knees. Which after I figured out I didn't break a hip or anything made me laugh. But back to my friend. While I admire his vitality in participating in this May-October situation, it also kicks up an old feeling of injustice. If the situation were say, me and an 20 year old, as that would be the same time span, I'd be getting cougar-this and ew-that's-gross that. Not that that scenario is tempting in the slightest. When I left my last husband, I was in my 40's. And I found the only men I was attracted to were 27. Every one of them. This spooked me enough to analyze it, and my best arm chair analysis gave me this: 27 (or 26....) is the high water mark of youth and beauty. When you think of all the dead rocks stars and such who died at 27, you begin to see it truly as a peak. And what I realized was I wasn't so much attracted to these men, as I was to some echo of me in my prime. We hate to see our youth fade, hence the relevance of page after page of horrible plastic surgery in a fruitless attempt to abay the inevitable. So, to my friend, I say: grow up! No, not really. There are many ways to stay young that don't involve a scalpel or schtupping your granddaughter. But I don't blame him: I don't find people my own age attractive, either. 
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment