Falsies

I have a confession to make: I have falsies. No, I didn't get a "boob job" (unless my Wonderbra counts), but for the past few years I've worn false toenails. In this, the era of open toe sandals, they are a life saver for people like me who do not have pretty toenails due to lifelong problems with ingrown toenails and surgeries to fix them gone a muck. The only comments I've ever received on them are compliments. People want to know who does my pedicures. Even the ladies at the salon who actually do pedicures professionally ask who does my pedicures. When I confessed that it was Walgreen's, one professional pedicurist requested that whenever people ask who does my toes, that I reference her. She was willing to stamp her good name on my Walgreen's pedicure-in-a-box.

Yesterday I was fixing my toes with Dear Daughter peeking over my shoulder. She said innocently, "Mommy, why do you always say you have ugly toenails? I don't think they look ugly!" She went on to say, "I mean, people's body parts just change when they get old." Huh? I had to ask for clarification on that one. "Well, you know. When people get old, their body parts-like their toenails-just start to change."

Sure, I thought to myself. When women reach the ripe old age of 37 years and 8 months, all they need to manage their aging body parts is a Wonderbra and some Walgreen's toenails-in-a-box. Er...and maybe some hair dye to hide the gray. Uh...and some tweezers for those stray facial hairs. Um...and perhaps some "shapewear" undergarments to tighten stuff up a bit. ...and that magic nighttime facial cream to erase the wrinkles. And according to my sage six-year-old, it all just goes with the territory of getting "old."

I think I'd better start shopping for some TED Hose. My 38th birthday comes in just a few short months.