Tric’s husband gave her some sort of cream, a face cream, for wrinkles and things, he thought she might like it.
LAST week Himself arrived home from work with a cheery, “I’ve a present for you.”
My heart skipped at least one beat — I love presents — and my mind went into overdrive as to what it might be.
Moments later he arrived into the kitchen, both hands hanging. I smiled and casually asked, “Where’s my present?”
From his suit pocket, he handed me a barely visible tube of something. I am not a makeup sort of girl so a minuscule tube of anything was never going to set me alight.
“Oh... Thanks” I mumbled, my nose crumpling up as if I were smelling something that was gone off.
“It’s some sort of cream,” he helpfully advised. “A face cream, for wrinkles and things, I thought you might like it.”
My mouth opened and closed a number of times, but words failed me. Himself walked away whistling, oblivious to his gift striking me dumb.
I turned it over a number of times in my hand, not recognising the brand, before casting it to one side, all joy extinguished.
Later that night sleep evaded me, as I simmered at the thought of himself suggesting my face needed help.
Perhaps it would be better if I read a book? I opened the page I’d marked and all I could see was a blur. I knew there was perfectly readable script there, but I couldn’t make out a single word. This had been happening for some weeks, but usually I could figure out the occasional word.
This time I could see nothing.
Rubbing my eyes, I held the book at arm’s length. Yes, that seemed to work. The words were coming into focus again, well the majority of them were, the rest I just filled in.
However, within a short time, my arms began to tire. I needed longer ones, and my brain was slowing down at filling in appropriate words. Reluctantly I put my book away.
Then it hit me like a slap. On top of my wrinkle aplenty face, I needed glasses. For a number of weeks, I’d been in denial... I was too young... this face would not suit glasses... I was most definitely not a glasses in bed kind of girl.
I lay there defeated.
The following day I wasn’t feeling any better. On close inspection, there was little doubt the face before me had seen better days. Maybe it was time to check out that magic cream? Surely it couldn’t hurt to give it a try?
I applied the tiniest amount to my face and waited. No change. So I plastered it on. Still nothing of note happened. Those laughter lines continued to mock me.
Lamenting my lost youth, I decided my best bet was to avoid mirrors from here on.
I’d a missing head light bulb on my car which needed my urgent attention, so off I went to the car accessories shop. I feel about as lost in there as I do in a makeup department. Thankfully, I’d only to remember the year and make of my car in order to purchase the new bulb I needed.
“Do you know how to put it in?” asked the gentleman behind the counter.
“Not a clue,” I replied.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure your dad will do it for you when you go home.”
Yes, that is exactly what he said. My dad! Clearly, he thought I was a young girl. It could only be the cream! I raced home in order to look at my youthful face, but on inspection, I could only deduce its magic is short lived.
There’s a tiny bit left in the tube, so in the next few weeks if I meet you and you don’t recognise me don’t worry — it’s not you, it’s me.
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