Soul Woman

I tried one of those self-tanning gimmicks. It took me almost an hour to choose from all the products and if I had just spent that amount of time in the sun, I wouldn't have had to spend twenty dollars on an experiment.

Everybody's going to know I got a tan out of a bottle if it goes bad. 1) I'll have a complete body rash. 2) I'll look jaundiced, or… 3) I'll look like George Hamilton.

It turned out to be none of the above. Instead I developed a fascinating case of upper body acne. Lovely. Now I know what I missed out on in high school.

It's been two months and the acne still hasn't cleared. It's like my skin said, "Let's party!" and my pores said, "Bring it on!"

You know a lot of women my age-pushing forty-go under the knife to look twenty years younger. Ha! I have them beat by five more years. And now I have a sudden urge to read Teen magazine and join the Drake Bell fan club.

Okay…I joined the fan club two years ago.

Have you ever done that? Have you ever expressed an interest in the younger generation? You can really creep your teens out when you express an interest in a celebrity their own age. Of course, you can't slobber all over the guy's picture-or marry him unless you're a forty-year old and a celebrity yourself-but you can say, "My he's quite a talented young man!"

right?

Pbbft. I have Drake and Josh dreams.

Now I'm not saying I need to start staying 30 feet away from children, I'm just saying that occasionally I dream of a television episode. In its entirety. I think the boys are cool. I think they're talented. I think it has something to do with the Nickelodeon station being on 24/7. I think I need to move this column along.

So I got the tanning products. I loyally slathered it on and worked the cream into my skin. I denied that I was on a carrot-only diet. I gave up.

The inside of my clothes were not stained (because it washes off), but I certainly wasn't about to let my husband see my grimy laundry. "Geez, woman, don't you shower??"

"Hey, I wash!" I yelled down the hall after my husband, just as my eldest emerged from their bedroom affecting their best "Yea-ah, whatever," look. I hate to lose.

"Hey, I had one of THOSE dreams last night…"

"Mother!"

"I'm a soul wo-man, dada da dada da, I'm a soul woman!"

One thing is for sure. I might be a pimply old woman with an odd orange hue to her skin, but I can dance!

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  • Guest

    God loves you .

    I have memories of being ‘the younger generation’ once upon a time – Conestogas, Injuns, Wyatt Earp – no, not quite THAT old, anyway. I do remember being smart enough to question ‘tanning’. Our neighbor tried for the all-over thang, and rather than blushing cuz she was nekkid-almost, it was that she looked like a family-size Hot Pocket – and overdone, at that!

    Those memories make me glad I am old, really old, by the measure of the current younger generation(s).

    These younguns ['youngun': Grandpa word] evoke my memories of the long-past and hardly good-old-days. AND, these whipper-snappers are just about as stupid as I was. Some seem so stupid as to need constant reminders to breathe. (I only needed that about bathing. ‘Did you wash your hands.’ Uh . . . sure, Dad! ‘In what, mud?’)

    Remember, I love you, too .

    In the Suffering of Christ, and in His hope of His Resurrection,

    Pristinus Sapienter

    (wljewell @catholicexchange.com or … yahoo.com)

  • Guest

    Who are Drake and Josh?

    Anyway, this reminded me of my sister who told me she used to go to Yankee games and think,"It would be so cool to be married to one of those guys." Now she goes and thinks, "Their mothers must be so proud of them!"

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