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I had a biopsy Monday to determine whether something on my mammogram is something to worry about or not. I’ve actually quite forgotten the results, because, quite frankly, I’ve been dealing with the 1 cm hole left behind, some bleeding and some pain and… the hole.  It’s not been terribly painful, just annoying pain, but it’s surprising how distracting the list of things one cannot do until this wound has healed can be.  I’m grateful that today I can wield a hairdryer without pain, but I digress.

I went to get a manipedi today.  I had the day off and we got paid, and after the week I’ve had, I felt like getting pampered, and my feet looked awful.

I sat across from a trio of ladies who obviously lived in the wealthy neighborhood nearby.  Apparently all three ladies had weekly appointments at the spa.  Two of them (Lady A & Lady B) seemed to attend together and the other just happened to be there at the same time.

I’d never seen so many designer brands on a single human being before.  I don’t run in those circles, and with my funds, I just want quality. I don’t care who made it or what the tag says.  All three of these ladies were blonde, one perhaps naturally, and all three had perfectly straight white teeth and smooth, tanned skin. I judged them to be close to my age. All three had school-age children and knew each other through their kids and activities. All three were of similar age, build, and intelligence (very smart).  It was as if someone had stamped them out of the trophy wife mold. They were, in most ways, “perfect,” as is relative to their world.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no problems with trophy wives.  It’s a centuries-old tradition, and who doesn’t want to look good for the man in their life?  Besides, they all seemed happy and content with their lives.  To each their own.

I couldn’t help but notice, however, that the content of their conversation centered around how they looked and what they did to maintain their looks.  At least it seemed that way with Lady A & Lady B.  Lady C tried to steer the conversation toward the shining light of their lives – their children – but got sucked back into beautification as they started talking about 3 hour protein treatments for their hair, and not, in fact, hair extensions.

Lady A, in the first chair, was wearing a designer outfit that Lady C complimented and immediately Lady A threw out the designer name.  During the course of their conversation about maintaining their level of beauty it was discovered Lady A and Lady B had eyelash extensions.

Eyelash extensions.

Lady A said that was the only procedure she’d have for vanity, but as she got her nails and toes done, they talked about her makeup and tan and said something about permanent makeup.  Lady B laughed and said that Lady A could just roll out of bed ready to go and then confessed she’d also had eyelash extensions.  Lady C blinked a few times, looked closely at Lady B’s eyelashes and said, “but…they’re all clumped together.”

Lady A suggested it was time for an eyelash extension refill and Lady C asked about her real eyelashes and would there be damage.

This conversation happened so naturally, but I sat there wishing I had a Trophy Wife Translator.  I also had to resist the urge to jump in the conversation and ask just why would one get eyelash extensions and just how much did all their beautification cost? Instead, I just sat there and let the conversation unfold.

Lady C said something about the eyelashes and Lady A mentioned them in reference to a midlife crisis and her 40th birthday coming up. She was trying to participate in a conversation that didn’t make as much sense to her as she thought perhaps it should have.  Either that, or she was happy with herself and wondered if someday, she too, would resort to something like eyelash extensions to extend her youth. 

Lady B laughed at the mention of midlife crisis and said that they were already planning an all female getaway somewhere farway south, somewhere warm and beachy for their 40th birthday parties.  As they hurried to leave (some child had to attend a birthday party) they said that they would get together soon to discuss their midlife crisis birthday getaways.

I think I missed something. I haven’t yet had a midlife crisis and I’m at least two years older than these ladies. I also haven’t felt the need to get eyelash extensions or permanent makeup.  Maybe that means I’m going to live longer, since I have yet to reach the point in my life when I am in “crisis” because I might be in the middle of my life and think of the second half of my life as downhill.  I guess it’s because my life has been on an uphill swing the last 7 years or so that I want to embrace all that being older brings, because for me, despite more aches and pains and the occasional slowdown, life just keeps getting better.

 I’ve seen many quarter-life crises when people reach 25 and wonder why their life isn’t unfolding as they thought.  The quarter-life crisis is more about anticipation and impatience. The midlife crisis is about “what if,” and “why didn’t I?” and holding onto the loss of youth.

I see men act out all the time with the cars and younger women and hair implants, but this is the first time I’ve seen it from the women’s perspective this closely.  It’s never dawned on me to get eyelash extensions to look younger.  I suppose in a few years when wrinkles catch up with me I might feel differently, but I’d like to think even then I’d rather my actions make me seem younger than my appearance.  I’d rather be young at heart than young on the surface.

As I left the spa, I felt relaxed and renewed. Maybe manipedis have helped me avert my midlife crisis so far.  Who knows? I’ll let you know if I ever get to my crisis and you know you’ll hear about it right here.





I seek to live, breathe & work creatively. Late bloomer. I survived breast cancer and so much more. I will meet each challenge w/determination, badassery & sass!

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