Classic Cars

Robin written by Robin Garrison Leach — Life is etched in the timelines

Robin written by Robin Garrison Leach — Life is etched in the timelines

Thanks to plastic surgery, we can all look young forever.

If you have enough money, you can redesign your face to become someone whose identity is held together by stitches and scars.

I see older women on TV looking like they have taut balloons, and I imagine the scared older woman underneath, scared that her true self isn’t beautiful anymore.

No, don’t get me wrong. I look in my own mirror and see how time has scarred my face. I see the jowls starting to form. The dimples I used to flash in my twenties are now flanked by brackets of wrinkles that can’t be denied.

But there is a difference between maintenance and overhaul. Like a classic car, the value of the vehicle decreases when new parts replace the originals.

My mother was lying on her bed, her head tilted to the side, staring at me with her twinkling upside-down eyes.

“This is what I would look like with a facelift,” she said, using her hands to push her eyes back at an angle and pressing her face to her ears. His face flushed from the position and the effort.

” What do you think about it ? »

I shook my head with childish disdain, wondering if she really meant it, until she straightened up. Her face would return to the one I had known all my life: love in a skin that was both tender and hard, playful and wise, eternally young and sometimes old.

She was smiling and the lines of her face framed the message she was sending me.

“Better,” she said, patting his face and letting it return to its familiar shape, “I like that better.”

I had to agree. There was no reason to change…it was the same mom I had always known. Even better, it was a look into my own future. I could see her maturing and changing with a grace and sensitivity that would help me come to terms with my own eventual transformation.

Since then, I have watched the person I am grow and adapt, inside and out, over the years with a mixture of apprehension and admiration.

The changes on my face tell a story that I love to read.

In exchange for a smooth, wrinkle-free face, I was given cares and joys that line my forehead and squint my eyes. The taut, elastic skin of my youth has been replaced by a softer, more expressive envelope that can show feelings effortlessly: from worry to pride to sadness.

The circles under my eyes, though unattractive, bear witness to the day-to-day life of mother and wife. They bear witness to the sleepless nights with sick children, the pain of loss and the tears that accompany sadness.

But there are wrinkles that I like. The wrinkles that etch my old face when I smile have formed quietly and slowly over the years, digging into my skin without me even noticing.

As the joys and happiness of life distracted me, they took their place – along the edges of smirks, around eyes squinting with laughter, against cheeks that held happy memories of kisses planted there by loving lips.

My face contains the chronicle of my life in every wrinkle.

Why would I want to erase the past? Pushing the years back on my face would be like trying to forget the life that made me who I am. It would be sad to think that I had nothing to show for my time here but smooth, taut skin and a surprised, shallow expression.

I showed my daughter what I would look like with a facelift. My head throbbed as I leaned over the bed, my hands reminding me of my youth.

“Stop it,” she chuckled. “It’s not you.”


Robin Garrison Leach can be contacted at [email protected]