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Meteoric Aging

After 40, everything bad that happens to you ages you. Fast.

I look in the mirror four months post car crash (car totaled, me in it) and my jowls are drooping like a Bassett houndís. Ka-ching! This is worth at least five years of natural aging.

Iíve unwittingly lost 13 pounds and though Iím euphoric about wearing size FOUR pants, my face looks like a deflated map-of-the-world balloon. Ka-ching!

Near death experience, heart attack, stroke, cancer? Ka-ching, Ka-ching!

Humiliation can do it too. I once crashed my bike directly in front of a fire station and after a calendar boy fireman nursed me, I aged another five years. Ka-ching!

Death of parents, spouse or loved ones? Jack Pot! Ka-ching! Ka-ching! Ka-ching!

These tragedies are piling up so fast they remind me of playing the slots at Coney Island. I keep cashing in years as the bruises, indignities, losses and breaks pile up . . .

But they say life is nothing if not a gamble. So Iíve decided after my recent NDE to go for broke! Spend all I have for loveliness! (apologies to Sara Teasdale). Bend it like Beckham! Go for the gold! Etcetera, etcetera . . . .


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