I hate my neck....

Father Time

 A diabolic devil for sure and we all love to think we can fool the scheming scoundrel.

Unfortunately, there is one part of our bodies that the hands of time have a pretty good choke hold around and that is our necks.

I hate my neck.

I mean I appreciate the fact that it holds up my skull, but I just don’t appreciate its resemblance to an alligators’ backside.

If my neck was a trunk from Crate and Barrel, it would be in the “Distressed Collection” section in their catalog.

Contrary to popular belief, Cleopatra didn’t sport those fancy necklaces so she could be queenly.

She was covering up her Egyptian sun damage!

You can be holding your own with a pretty good looking mug.   Not too wrinkly.  Nice eyes. 

Have skin that isn’t mistaken for a Dot to Dot game and then,

Bam!

Right below your chin it’s Turkey Lurkey Town.

A few years back, one of my tiny great nieces climbed up on my lap, lovingly caressed my neck and said,

“Auntie, how come you have three throats?”

I promptly drop kicked her onto the floor.

Brutal.....

I heard there is a procedure now where they can thread lengths of suture with minute hooks on the ends into your face, down below your jaw line and pull the skin taut for an instant chin lift.

Think of it as grappling hooks for jiggly jowls.

Just my luck they would yank out an artery and it would be gusher city.

Or I would get the quack Michael Jackson nose doctor and it would be shorter on one side than the other.

Instead of looking younger, I would look like I just had a stroke.

And while we are on the subject, how is it that celebrities who have tons of dough get these crappy plastic surgeons?

Don’t they talk amongst themselves?

Or read Peoples Magazine?

Isn’t there an “Angies List” for Botox abusers?

I mean anybody who was unfortunate enough to peer at Joan Rivers after her facelift would be crazy to choose that guy!

Unless you WANTED to look like a marionette.

So I say we should be content to age gracefully and give thanks that we are blessed with good health, lifelong friends and a great moisturizer.

And hopefully an entire dresser drawer full of fantastic scarves.

Besides, I don’t think of these folds of skin on my neck as wrinkles,  I think of them as:

 “Flesh Rings on the Tree Of Life.”

Each one marking a year of maturity, not unlike the great Redwoods.

A monument to my mortality.

And if the skin gets any saggier I can always harvest it and make it into a handbag.

Hey, I understand Alligator is “in” this season!

…….I’m just sayin’