Turkey Necks and Other Age-Related Maladies

Image: Tom Curtis from Fotila.com

I have a question. It seems to me that when we reach a certain age, after we have endured the awkward tween years, the acne and the bad hair choices, and after we have allowed our bodies to be stretched in obscene ways to birth and feed our children, we would have earned the right to at least get to choose how our bodies express their age. I’m not asking for eternal youth, and I’m really only talking surface issues here (I’m still holding out hope that what I put in to my body and the way that I use it might maintain a semblance of youth on the inside), but why can’t we decide for ourselves where our age will show the most?

What brought this on you ask? Well, I have discovered recently, and by recently I mean sometime during my 39th year, (I am now 41) that the pride I have in the few  tiny lines around my eyes is being slowly whittled away by the encroachment of what I can tell is bound to be a Turkey Neck! Frankly, I find those lines some folks have around their eyes to be charming, the Turkey Neck – no so much. I just really feel that at this point in my life, I should get to pick my wrinkly, saggy area of choice.

So now I’ve become OCD about necks. I’ve been looking at pictures of my older family members wondering which genetic code my face will follow. I confess, I will often scrutinize the necks of perfect strangers – trying to guess their age – wondering if those with the tight jaw-line that I KNOW are at least 10 years my senior have good genes or a good surgeon. I secretly would like to survey these women. I want to know their secret. Which reminds me…

Those of you who are older than me – you are probably reading this thinking, “Honey, your impending Turkey Neck is the LEAST of your concerns!” Oh yeah – well please do enlighten me, because I’m a little miffed that none of you ever really warned me about what I’m seeing in the full length mirror these days. I seriously thought that if I kept my BMI at a respectable level and my muscle mass decent I would not have those funny little ripples on the inside of my upper arm. WRONG! I spent most of my life self-conscious about the size of my arms, and just when I’ve gotten over that foolishness – THIS! The little ripple extravaganza! Will I ever be okay with sleeveless shirts? I know one thing, I’ll never be any younger than I am right now, it’s only going to get worse, so I’d better wear the tank top while I still reasonably can!

And another thing. Why did you not tell me that wrinkles just above your kneecap are pretty much unavoidable? I thought all those squats were going to count for something – but I can see that in another decade or so, even Bermuda shorts will be too short. I’m starting to have an epiphany over why certain clothing styles are so popular among a certain age group.

There is one thing I am embracing though – with all my heart… grays. Yes, I have discovered a few kinky gray hairs popping out of my blonde head. If I can get enough of those going, I won’t have to highlight anymore! And if they are all kinky like the ones I’ve seen so far I will be singing hallelujah! I have curled and poofed and volumized my thin strands my whole life. Could I possibly be seeing the light at the end of the permanent wave tunnel? Don’t tell me if I’m delusional – let me just hold on to this one last fantasy…


2 thoughts on “Turkey Necks and Other Age-Related Maladies

  1. Well, I might just get burned for even sounding off on this post, but I am 34 and can already nod to the affirmative on some of the things you mention. Gray hair? Check, check and triple check. This leads to regular coloring of my hair. Acne? Unfortunately, I didn’t leave that behind in my teen years. You could play connect the dots on my face today. Ugh. The soft, pudgy mid-section that I’ve heard for years plagues women? Yep, got that too. And….I’ve lost about an inch in height. Shrinking already?! Yikes!

    I still see-saw regularly between accepting that I won’t look like my svelte, skinny, muscular 25 year old friend (even though 2 years ago, I gave her a run for her money as a size 4, very tone physique). Why? Because, the devil wants me to think my husband only loves me when the outside is beautiful, which distracts me from keeping the inside spiritually beautiful. Bastard…

    I eat better, but I don’t exercise (even though I should & will start up again here soon, as a matter of good health, not to compete with others). I don’t look like my fit friends, but I’m not overweight. Eventually I notice that despite how I may or may not look, my husband still loves me, still desires me and still thinks I’m gorgeous – inside AND out. So why waste all that time obsessing over what’s guaranteed to slip out of my hands eventually?

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