Didn't My Skin Used to Fit? - Softcover

Bolton, Martha

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0764221841 ISBN 13: 9780764221842

Publisher: Bethany House, 2000

Synopsis

A lively, entertaining book about middle-age that will prove that laughter and longevity go hand-in-hand.

About this title

About the Author:

Martha Bolton is a full-time comedy writer and the author of thirty books. She has been a staff writer for Bob Hope for fifteen years along with writing for Bob Gaither, Ann Jillian, Phyllis Diller, and many others. Her material has appeared in Reader's Digest, Chicken Soup for the Kid's Soul, and Brio magazine, and she has received two Angel awards and an Emmy nomination. Martha and her husband live in Tennessee.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Chapter 1

Hangin’ Loose

I began noticing it several years ago. The skin I had worn for most—no, make that all—of my life suddenly didn’t fit anymore. It used to fit. Rather snugly, as a matter of fact. It was tight around the eyes and mouth. There wasn’t any extra under my chin or any hanging down from the sides of my cheeks. There was just enough to make one pass around my entire body. One trip was all that was required, and the exact amount was provided to do the job. Not too much, not too little. It was a perfect fit.

It even stretched. If I gained a pound or two, or twenty, my skin easily expanded to accommodate the increased territory. It wasn’t judgmental. It didn’t condemn me for that third trip to the food bar. It never tried to knock the brownie out of my hands or shame me into putting back that super-sized scoop of banana pudding. It simply stretched and accommodated. It met the challenge of whatever was required and never once complained.

If I lost weight, my skin was equally accommodating. It would easily return to its original size as though nothing had ever happened. I could gain weight or lose to my heart’s content, or discontent, and it would adjust, snapping right back into place when the time was right.

Well, it doesn’t snap back anymore. In fact, it doesn’t do much of anything except hang there, looser in some places than in others. Like under my chin. That’s where a lot of it seems to gather and hang. I’m not very happy about that. It’s disconcerting when people stare at my neck and I know they’re thinking about Thanksgiving.

Frankly, I think someone should come up with a choker necklace that could be worn just below the chin and would keep all that extra skin tucked neatly in place so it doesn’t hang down like loosened upholstery under an antique chair. Whoever designs the first necklace like that will make a fortune.

Little folds of flesh have started to gather around my eyes, too—wrinkles that won’t minimize no matter how much wrinkle minimizer I apply. They call it “crow’s-feet,” but my face doesn’t have just a few of them. It has a whole chorus-line thing going on! Every time I squint, my skin seems to fanfold itself into a neat little stack, like pulled taffy, right beside my eyes. It’s orderly, but not very attractive. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want tidy little stacks of pulled taffy next to my eyes. I’d much rather go back to the days when crow’s-feet were something you only worried about in an Alfred Hitchcock film.

For some reason, my upper arms have fallen to this extra-skin curse, as well. Don’t ask me why, because I haven’t a clue. What I do have, though, is a nice swag look every time I raise a hand. I’ve measured, and there is a good two inches of loose skin under each arm. If a strong wind kicks up, I could be flapping for hours.

I don’t think I’d ever actually become airborne, but given the right aerodynamic circumstances, I wouldn’t bet against it. That’s the reason I wear long sleeves most of the time. They help keep me grounded and save the embarrassment of having to explain a sudden and unscheduled flight to air traffic controllers. What would I say?

“I know I should have radioed in my flight pattern, sir, but this was one of those spur-of-the-moment trips. And besides, that 747 could easily have gone around me.”

I’m sure I’d get into some sort of trouble with the Federal Aviation Administration.

Personally, I believe that’s why Renaissance clothing sported those long, flow-y sleeves. The women back then had a problem with loose underarms, too.

I’ve also been noticing the skin beginning to bunch up around my ankles. I thought about painting the little rolls of flesh to match my outfits, passing them off as slouch socks, but decided against it. Even slouch socks aren’t supposed to go that far up your legs. Besides, if I wear real tight nylons, I can usually push the extra skin back up to my knees, where people expect to see extra skin.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could unzip our skin, take it to the dry cleaners, and let them shrink it back into shape? They shrink everything else! I suppose that’s not an option, though. When’s the last time you saw a dry cleaner coupon that read, “While-U-Wait Epidermis Pressing. Save 20%”?

An elderly movie star I once worked with had a good idea. She pulled all the loose face skin up under her bangs, then taped it back by her ears. Amazingly enough, it gave her the illusion of being thirty years younger! I was so impressed with the results, I tried it myself, but it didn’t work as well for me. All we had in the house at the time was duct tape, and the silver kept showing through my hair.

Skin that doesn’t fit is just one of the symptoms of growing older. There are plenty more, of course. Symptoms that, for the most part, we can’t stop no matter how much we’d like to or how hard we try, so we might as well laugh about them. And laughing about them is what this book is all about.

You know you're getting old when...getting “in the groove” means your walker hit a crack in the sidewalk.

About this edition

• Publisher: Bethany House
• Publication date: 2000
• ISBN 10: 0764221841
• ISBN 13: 9780764221842
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 185