|Foundations by YSL, Barbara Daly @ Tesco, Lily Lolo, Max Factor, Lavera and Dr Hauschka|
I don't know whether it was watching the Terry Pratchett documentary on Assisted Dying, or the current precarious health of our respective parents, but this house has become Mid Life Crisis Central in the last week. Pat is talking about giving up his portfolio worker status and seeking out a regular paycheck. Okay, he does this periodically, but I'm not sure I have ever seen him so serious before. And me, I'm seriously considering the benefits of plastic surgery.
Perhaps I should explain.
For a while now, I've had a skin condition on my face. Brown patches have developed on my cheeks, followed by nubbly, scaly, raised areas. I've pretended I wasn't worried about it for a long time, and wore increasing amounts of foundation, but while we were on holiday, Pat mentioned it in company, thinking he was pointing out a dirty mark on my cheek, and I found myself crying. At this point, I realised it was making me very unhappy, and I had to get it looked at. Cue trip to doctor, command to utilise Factor 30+ cream on face at all time, and impending date with dermatologist. Its not anything malign, thank Gods, but nevertheless.
I've always been very lucky with my skin, which has rather made it worse. I have sported a pale, even, almost porcelain complexion for many years. I have to admit that I wasn't as thorough with the sun tan cream in my twenties as I ought to have been (youth of today take note - it WILL happen to you!), and did rather more lying on the beach during my MSc at Portsmouth than was strictly necessary. But I have always worked hard with the Cleanse-Tone-Moisturise routine too, so I figured I was okay.
Now when I look in the mirror, I see Oliver Cromwell!
Well, the GP says it's not warts, or melanoma, but something unpronounceable, which is a relief, but I am left with a rabid obsession with finding a mineral foundation with the highest SPF possible, and the possibility that the crusty lumps may not be removable, at least without scarring.
I don't mind the wrinkles and the greying hair, which at least I can colour. I can just afford electrolysis for the increasing number of black bristles coming through on my chin. I can do my yoga and eat healthily to manage my incipient tum. And I can look to Judy Dench and Helen Mirren as role models. But don't let anyone kid you, girls, this getting old shit is hell, so be prepared. And use a high SPF.