Keeping up appearances

Keeping up appearances

Musings
Sonia Kelly

KEEPING up appearances becomes more and more difficult as age advances – or perhaps ‘encroaches’ would be a better word, as it certainly does encroach on the whole of one’s physique.
Hair is the most obvious of the body’s displays, and it causes major problems – not so much because of the faded colour and fluff-like consistency of the stuff on one’s head, but because of its tendency to swap with other sites. As it disappears from the top, it surfaces as moustache and beard, and this requires a lot of action with the tweezers.
However, if, as in my case, one is semi-blind, it’s easy to miss a strand or so. This happened to me quite lately. I suppose it’s fortunate that my family doesn’t hesitate to point out faults and blemishes, and on this occasion I learned that there was a white hair on my chin! Can you imagine the shock? It must have been there for some time visible to all whom I encountered on my daily peregrinations. Such degradation …
Then I sometimes wonder if I should actually grow a moustache to hide all the little wrinkles, or creases, that appear over the upper lip. These are very indicative of antiquity, and they only disappear when the lips are stretched in a broad smile. Hence it’s necessary to wear a permanent fixed grin – like the one you put on for photographs.
But this, of course, exposes the teeth, and, as I have not had the American treatment, mine are off-white, to put it mildly. I am trying to rectify this by applying a spray called (hopefully) ‘Sparkling Smile’ and trusting to luck that it doesn’t actually dissolve my fangs.
We haven’t finished with the face, though – up a bit and towards the eyes we come upon pouches that would not be out of place on the head of a blood hound. Maybe the only remedy for this is a visit to a plastic surgeon, but I can only afford a jar of skin-firmer and lots of massage (when I remember). You can do facial exercises if you’re really dedicated. There is a book on the subject, which I had in pre-pouch days, but it has since disappeared.
From blood hound to turtle now, so that my appearance could be described as animal farm - if you look closely as, of course, disguise is the name of the game. The turtle, as you might have guessed, is my neck – a common problem confirmed by the popularity of the turtle-neck jumper. I have lots of them, but, even so, I sometimes think that a cloak would be better.
This would not conceal the hands, though. Gloves are the only solution here, shrouding those claw-like appendages covered in brown spots. In fact, the hands are further evidence of an animal farm – birds now being included. Recently a large brown splodge, like ten of the other spots joined together, appeared on the back of one hand, which I took to be the mark of Cain. Cain, you will remember, being the murderer of his brother, Abel. This apparently was a burst blood vessel!
The fact that my arms look like rolls of linen that have been washed but not ironed is not too distressing, as I’m not scheduled to take part in the BBC series ‘How to look good naked’. But it does make you wonder why a device for pumping up shrivelled tissue hasn’t been invented – and I’m not thinking of Botox.
However, the great thing is not to appear bowed down by these wasting conditions, but to stand up as straight as one’s wonky limbs permit. And never whine – expressions of negativity are extremely off-putting – but make as if you felt (and looked) as fresh as a daisy.
After all, if you believe something strongly enough, it becomes reality.