I have a confession to make…

Earlier this year I had a “woulda-shoulda-coulda” phase, as K8 would say. I must explain.

All my life when people greeted me, they said ‘Gosh, you are so like your mother!’ And I was! At her funeral 11 years ago, a man I had not met for twenty five years walked up to me in the graveyard and said “You have to be Grannymar! You are so like your mother”. Alas, at that point I had not erased the image of a very tiny, fragile and wasted ill old lady from my in-most eye. I had a hard job to smile and not show the shudder that ran through me.

A similar thing happened at Elly’s wedding in June. A cousin who lives in New Zealand that I last met in the late 60’s greeted me on her arrival with the same familiar phrase. My brothers always called me ‘Skinny’ or ‘Drip-dry’ when I was young. I may be long, lean and like a beanpole but now my hair is grey and my face and neck have more lines than the map of Ireland.

1940-film-star-quality-2.jpg

Mammy

In her young days my mother was a beauty with shoulder length dark hair. I inherited thick auburn tresses from both sides of the family a generation further back. None of my siblings had hair my colour, although if my brothers sported sideburns or a beard it grew a light ginger colour. My father always told me that my hair was my ‘Crowning Glory’. If that was so, then in my eyes, pale skin with large dirty looking dark freckles did not do my hair justice.

Now back to the face like a road map, and the “woulda-shoulda-coulda” question. With Elly’s wedding in sight I pondered and agonised about looking well for my Mother-of-the-Bride role. Since Elly is my one and only and cameras don’t lie, I needed to really think this one out.

Research was necessary so I scoured the ‘Net’, and read every written article I could lay my hands on. My eyes were closing with all this reading. Then I found a book that opened my eyes forever!

Mirror, Mirror (Confessions of a plastic-surgery addict)
by

Terry Prone.

Terry is someone who has experienced dozens of different kinds of plastic surgery at the hands of surgeons on both sides of the Atlantic and who tells the truth about each procedure the discomforts, results, costs and all. If you have ever contemplated going down this road I strongly recommend you find a copy of this book.

My final decision was made when I read the following story:

A 45 year old woman had a heart attack and was taken to the hospital
While on the operating table she had a near death experience.

Seeing God she asked “Is my time up?”

God said, “No, you have another 43 years, 2 months and 8 days to live.”

Upon recovery, the woman decided to stay in the hospital and have face-lift, liposuction, breast implants and a tummy tuck. She even had someone come in and change her hair colour and brighten her teeth! Since she had so much more time to live, she figured she might as well make the most of it.

After her last operation, she was released from the hospital. While crossing the street on her way home, she was killed by an ambulance.

Arriving in front of God, she demanded, “I thought you said I had another 43 years! Why didn’t you pull me from out of the path of the ambulance?”

God replied: “I didn’t recognize you.”

My face is still like a road map, but Toy-boys remember that:
A Lady who has no lines
Is a Lady who never smiles!

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11 thoughts on “I have a confession to make…

  1. Grannymar,

    Your Mother was beautiful and if you really DO look just like her, there is no reason for cosmetic surgery.

    I liked the story about God not recognizing the woman. That was good!

    I heard about a young professional man who changed his name from Finklestein to Browning. One night he was giving a housewarming party in his new exclusive condo and he invited his mother to attend. At the front lobby were all the names of the residents on a beautiful brass plaque with a button beside each name.You pushed the correct button to be admitted by the owner.

    The Mother never showed up at the party and the next day the son called her and asked why she didn’t attend. She replied’ “I got to your building and when I saw the brass plaque I knew I was done because I couldn’t remember your NAME .

  2. Good Story Nancy.

    You should really think of starting your own blog.

    The mammy that visits me each morning in the mirror, is older than the photo and has the same grey hair and road map face as I do!

  3. You’re so right about wrinkles. They define you. I can’t imagine there’s any way I’d pull a Joan Rivers when mine are more obvious.

    Your mum is the absolute spitting image of Kirsten Dunst! What a beauty.

  4. Talking with the admin in work this week and she commented that I was lucky to have no wrinkles… I replied that I hoped so, since I was only 29! She was shocked, because she, like most people, had assumed that I was older than I really am.

    You however, even with the health issues have always acted much younger than your years – to the extent that sometimes I feel like I’m the mother! But then I always did mother everyone that I came across….

  5. Kirsten Dunst! Do you think a blonde wig would work for me?

    Seriously folk I am happy in my skin. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, so as long as my eyes smile, what else matters!

    Elly, mothering me is one thing but telling me wht to do is another. You can boss me all you want when I have lost my marbles.

  6. I’m not quite happy in my own skin but I’m getting there. I think during the ‘maturing ages’ we are more than the parts of our sum. What I lack in looks I hope I make up for in personality and humour and Grannymar, you certainly do, you’re one of life’s great story tellers and I could listen to your little podcasts for hours. (just wish they didn’t take so long to load on my jalopy of a PC). And I don’t know many people your age who know what a blog is let alone switch from Blogger to WordPress and podcast. My younglings are still coming to grips with that! You go girl!

  7. Hi Grannymar,

    Remember, I was there behind the black shawl.

    Your two piece dark blue, purplish long suit stole the show, nearly. Ellybabes outshone you as is should be.

    Pity you’re skinny. I would have a lend of a loan of it, if my Wan should ever sign on the dotted line! Maybe sometime you could tell me where you got it, and do they do a size 14 on bottom, with an ENORMOUS jacket.

    Granny

  8. Granny,

    So you need an enormous jacket,do you? Same as I do! I have an enormous 2 piece bathing suit with a gigantic top.
    I was at the beach the other day and a wave caught me and tore the top of my bathing suit off. I covered up as best I could with my hands but still a kid ran up to me and screamed,
    “Lady, if you’re going to drown those pups, give me the one with the brown nose.”

  9. Granny Certainly I am sure they do a size 14 and you sport a shawl so well it would would not matter about the jacket.. Sure you could put it over your head and then not need a hat either. I sent you the shoes months ago so you are half way there!

    Nancy I love that story. You are wasted not having your own Blog!

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