I bought new make-up last week. It’s specifically formulated for old-lady skin. That isn’t what it says, of course. The label refers to it as “ageless” and Ellen acts all spunky when she advertises it on t.v. But you can’t get past the point: this make-up is designed to work with wrinkles!

Skin, of course, is only one of the things that changes dramatically once we become grandmothers. I think there should be a film strip for that somewhere. The kind they screen in a darkened room after all the boys have been sent to the gym. 
In this particular cycle of life, we get little warning. And the amount of creams, potions, and extracts needed to prevent our bodies from shriveling up like an Egyptian mummy is mind-boggling. So, I bought new make-up. And hand lotion. And an extra bottle of moisturizer. And a lighted, magnified, make-up mirror.
I spent an extra half-hour putting it all on, watching to see if it really did “glide above the wrinkles” instead of sinking in as promised. I can’t really tell, because my eyes aren’t that good even with the magnified mirror. But, I don’t think any of it will make much difference. Nobody is going to be fooled into thinking I’m ageless. I am obviously seasoned. And, fortunately for me, the man I married still likes me that way.