According to every website I've Googled, Crow's Feet are to be avoided at all monetary and physical costs. Those tiny (and not so tiny) lines that radiate from the outer corners of the eyes are not just signs of too much sun, or smoking, or genes. They are a horrifying badge of obsolescence: old age. *Cue the crickets, ticking clock, and creaking casket lid.* Outrageous claims and prices abound from 'scientists' and aestheticians mercilessly preying on those who would rather be bankrupt or risk slight deformity than show a wrinkle, crinkle, or crepe.
Yes! Inject botulism under your skin. Nevermind that you most probably will exchange those crinkles for a smooth frozen stare that will scare your grandchildren right out of your arms. And you'll need to keep after it just like that crabgrass in your garden.
Yes! Purchase this serum--doesn't that sound more valuable than 'oil' or 'creme' (with an 'e'!). It instantly erases (the appearance of) 'fine' lines. Nevermind that you'll be right back in the same wrinkle as soon as you run out of serum, or money.
What's a little crinkling have to do with anything, really. I don't think my home girl Heidi Klum would mind my pointing out that she shows the most adorable little Crow's Feet every time she smiles and waves goodbye to the designers on Project Runway. They happen to the best of us.
Yes, I spent entirely too much time in the sun. Before we knew sunbathing was dangerous and could precipitate deadly cancers, I trekked to the beach or the pool with abandon. When I was little, my mother used to say, "You look a little pale. Why don't you go out and get some sun?" I still work in the yard every chance I get, but now that the cow's out of the barn, I grab a sun hat. Yes, I smoked Benson and Hedges Menthol cigarettes in my 20's and 30's. Who knew that along with looking 'cool,' I was also investing in receding gums and facial grooves?
But, hey--I've also spent the majority of my life with a smile on my face. A big, open-mouthed, toothy grin if you must know. I experience joy and peace that have bubbled up from a heart that was healed by The Great Physician. God has given me dear, faithful friends . . . and a funny, loving husband . . . two healthy, bright sons . . . a new, kind daughter and a grandson who blows me totally off course.
Not long ago, I heard Cecilia walk in the door with Daniel. There were whispers that I could barely make out as I stood at the kitchen sink. "GiGi." "Give them to GiGi." Cecilia peeped around the corner and encouraged Daniel ahead. He came toddling toward me in his red fleece aviator cap and puffy grey vest, cheeks rosy from the early spring breeze. In his dimpled little fist, he was clutching a priceless bouquet of 4 delicate white flowers that he and C had harvested from the grass on their walk. Actually it was 3 1/2 blooms by the time he reached up to me with a chubby-cheeked smile, called my name, and turned loose of his treasure. The name of these flowers?
Crow's Feet.
Personally, I'm siding with Erma Bombeck. I'd rather have laugh lines than worry warts.
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