I recently came upon a book titled French Women Don't Get Facelifts: The Secret of Aging with Style & Attitude (Grand Central Publishing, December 24) by author Mireille Guiliano. I loved the title immediately, as here in Los Angeles, youth rules. I myself have thought about a facelift mainly because I have heard that getting a facelift in your forties gives you the most “bang for your buck.”
My first scary memory as a child happened when I was three. A sound had woken me up in the middle of the night. I heafd a knock on the door and my mom talking. So, I squeezed my blankie and headed down the dark hallway toward the living room. I remember my mom looked very nervous. Then, there was another knock.
I am 46. Fuck. How did that happen? When did I move to the other side of the mountain? When did I become my mother? When did I become the mom who knows nothing? When did I become the bitchy wife? When did I become 40 and pissed off?
I sit at my laptop all day long, from the moment I return home at 9am after dropping my children at school, to the moment I leave to pick them up from school at 3:30pm.
Let me make this clear. I do not get up from my chair all day except for three reasons: 1) I make a Nespresso Latte for myself around 9:30am. 2) I forage through the fridge around 1pm for something to eat for lunch, usually with a spoonful or two from the jar of Dulce De Leche I keep in the fridge! 3) I have to go to the bathroom.
