I was carded last night at dinner, not by a 22-year-old dude but by a 38-year-old female. Normally, a compliment like that would have me flying high for a week. But this morning Skeletor appeared in the mirror again.
Yes, fellow children of the 80s, I do mean He-Man’s nemesis: sunken in cheeks, dark circles under the eyes, pale as a corpse. (Flashback for all you fans right here)
When I’m well-rested, well-hydrated and I have new highlights, sometimes I still see my mid-to-late 20s face staring back at me in the mirror. Skeletor reminds me that I am, in fact, past my supposed physical prime. I blame this morning’s appearance on the two healthy pours of sauvignon blanc—I also blame them for my headache, but that’s another issue.
I’m convinced Skeletor’s appearance is the reason why women inject their faces with one of the most toxic substances known to humans and go under the knife so many times they risk looking like Joan Rivers.
When I was a child playing with my brothers’ action figures, Skeletor was kind of cool. He had a purple velvet panther and lived in Castle Grayskull—he was a bad ass. When he stares at me in the mirror, I don’t think he’s cool. I understand why He-Man and Teela wanted to defeat him. They were defending their planet, ironically named Eternia (thank you, Wikipedia).
When we women slather ourselves with wrinkle cream or and spend insane amounts on peptides aren’t we merely trying to defend our own Eternia? Alas, none of the billions of dollars spent each year on trying to look younger will allow us to live forever. The fact of the matter is that time will keep ticking. Skeletor will show up more frequently, but we don’t need to despair.
Inside each of us remains a warrior goddess and no matter what the mirrors says, that inner goddess gets stronger with each passing year.