The best places for wrinkles are the surfaces of prunes, raisins, cerebral cortices, some kinds of mushrooms, and shar peis. Yet this week, dozens of fine lines marring my cheeks appeared without my permission or any advanced warning. They are easiest to see when I smile. My husband says he’s doubtful that they taxied in as if they had all traveled together to my face in a jumbo jet and disembarked at the same time, but he did confirm that they were visible to the naked eye, or at least the naked eye with prescription glasses.
So where did these buggers come from? Dermatologists would point out that spending time in climates dominated by blue skies, sunshine, happily singing birds, and temperatures that allow one to go outside without a parka and umbrella, are responsible for facial results like I’m seeing this week. However, in saying this they would not be referring to Washington State, which missed the notice of the Vernal Equinox all together. Volleys of hail pellets and gusting winds are the norm for March, and on a good day, mixed snow and rain. A sun break is what happens when you see a haze-covered orb, about 7:15 p.m., just before it sets in the western sky.
I know I can’t worry about this new development, since worry itself causes lines in the face. Nor is make-up the answer, since make-up quickly makes its way into the valleys created by these new facial crevasses. I’m short on ideas of how to erase these obvious mistakes, except — and now I’m warning those readers who know me — to stop smiling.