“I will always love you” but not your face

Doesn’t seem that long ago that I was a 19-year old with pert boobies, an hourglass figure, and a peaches-n-cream complexion.  I remember thinking I was “blessed” with good genes and that I’d never look old.  Over the years, I’ve figured out that I didn’t know much when I was 19.  Or 29.  Or 39.

Now in my early 50s, I’m not nuts about the changes in my body.  Sure, some of the issues are my own damn fault, but some are just plain aging.  Many of my wrinkles are because I’m a sun worshipper—something I freely admit.  And I’ll also admit to entertaining the idea of having them fixed.  Not that I would really pay somebody to “iron out” my face or that I’d actually endure the pain that I imagine goes along with de-wrinkling. But I had thought about… until last night.

I was channel surfing and saw one of my favorite women: Dolly Parton.  Ewwwwwww. Have you seen her lately?  I’ve heard her say in previous interviews that she has had plastic surgery, and I thought she looked great.  But something has evidently happened—either as a result of one too many knives OR an unskilled knife operator—and she looks so “UN-Dolly-ish” now.

I will always love listening to her sing “I will always love you” but I don’t think I will love her face any more. And I’ll just live with my wrinkles, thank you very much. I may not have known much when I was 19 or 29 or 39, but I know NOW that I’d rather look old then icky.