Last June I had just had my eyes Lasiked. Three days before my birthday it was. I spent my birthday unwashed and with a sweaty head of hair, wearing dark glasses every where, and sleeping with plastic eye guards taped to my eyes to prevent any sudden impact caused by rolling around when in deep sleep. And I was to not sleep on my stomach. The husband spent much of the night gently turning me around onto my back, as gently as one might hoist around a sack of potatoes. Add the shapelessness and lumpiness and you got me. Anyway, it was not the ideal way to spend a birthday. But it was honestly the best birthday present ever. From the mother, to keep the record straight. The husband does stuff like Swiss watches and perfumes. The mother does the stuff I really, really want.
It has been a year since the Lasik, and I still get up some mornings and fumble around at my bedside table for my spectacles. Old habits die hard. And some days when I feel a little fuzzy visioned I wonder if I could take my eyes out, clean them up with solution and reinsert them. No? Okay. Will stick to them tear drops. Dry eye syndrome. Heard of it? The tear film that coats most eyes and helps the eyes get a sharper image is almost non existent with me. And therefore I walk through life grimly if I havent had a chance to put in my drops, or would be smiling manically at strangers.
This year, I could do with some liposuction, thank you very much. Just them saddlebags. And the stubborn little pouch of the stomach that hangs around glumly, mourning the foetus that popped out some six odd years ago. And maybe while I’m at it I could get the lungs to stop flirting so dangerously with gravity. And some Botox while I’m at it, to keep the forehead from creasing itself into constant queries and irritation. And…
I see this never ends. Never ever. Therefore, I will settle for some diamonds this birthday. They’re forever. They dont age, wrinkle, droop, sag. Is the husband listening? Or maybe, a Birkin bag. A fake would do too. I don’t have the patience to be on any waitlists that wont have me.
I guess priority on the list should be HRT since I’m now going to officially enter my 40th year on this planet. Let me go to a corner, and lick my self esteem. I’m now officially pre-menopausal.