Bake Sale Goal

I have a decorative centerpiece that is a shaped like a star. It’s also a mirror. It looks pretty with candles on it and I’m sure is well worth the $24.95 I overpaid at Crate and Barrel. The last time I used said centerpiece, it required cleaning of the Windex variety. Whilst cleaning, I made the grievous error of bending over the mirror and that’s when I saw it…


In all its middle aged glory.

The waddle.

You know. The waddle. The beginnings of the craggy saggy fleshy jiggle under the chin. Not to be confused with the jowl which is another cosmetic ailment altogether.

I was appropriately mortified.

Let me be clear. If you have a waddle, I could care less. I am concerned with no one’s waddle but my own. So concerned (and mortified), that I immediately contacted the fine people at my Credit Union to establish my bake sale fund via a modest monthly paycheck deduction. Bake sale of course, being code for “mini facelift”. Naturally.

I’d love to be that woman who is all confident about the aging process but let’s be honest. I am not that woman. This is me we’re talking about. The same me that was raised by my mother. The same mother that emphasized the importance of always wearing a matching bra and panties just in case there was an unfortunate trip to the emergency room via ambulance. Won’t the medics be impressed by my matching under-things while administering CPR?  Yes. Yes they would.

My new mantra since turning 40 is “cheat the clock”. I figure by the time I hit the next milestone birthday (a number I cannot say out loud without weeping) my bake sale coffer will be robust enough for a little trip to the nip tuck factory. I applaud the woman that indulges in a little cosmetic freshening up. We’re not talking Joan Rivers freshening (although I am a fan of Joan but for different reasons) – just a little “something-something’ that makes one look fresh and rejuvenated and waddle free.

Or to put it another way, I’m taking the appropriate steps to leaving a good looking corpse.