So many of her contemporaries do Botox, injecting poison into the facial muscles, rendering the user unable to move her forehead or express facial emotions.
Others have boob jobs, leaving these foreign saline bags to permanently stand at attention, even when the rest of the body is in repose. Equally hard to fathom.
This whole youth thing seems so silly and trivial. Faces are smooth while necks are wrinkled. Ditto with hands and the skin on arms.
What happened to the pride one should feel at having made it this far? Still filled with yearnings and feelings and the capacity for joy. Not solely from grandchildren who harken to days past, but from friendships that ripen in the days ahead until filled with sweet juices.
Our bodies are merely the vehicles that carry us through this life, this diversion, this time spent … here in this place. Some have the misfortune of being riddled with disease or maimed, but they are still miraculous in their creation and their fortitude and sheer strength and will of survival.
It is the shallow person who seeks only the beauty of youth. Or the artificial deception foisted upon us and received justifiably with sheer disbelief.
To the genuine person, then, goes the prize of the “real deal” and not the cheap forgery of what used to be.And that’s why Alice now believes that age is just a number.
It’s not about taking advantage; or looking for money. It’s for the pleasure of those who are not fooled by the stiff, expressionless faces; or the boobs frozen in the upright position; or the bodies invaded by hoses that suck out unwanted parts.
Alice believes that love and pleasure and joy are timeless.