Old Tropes Home
My husband said my skin was glowing—once—and that was about twenty-five years ago. This could mean one of two things: maybe my skin is still glowing and it doesn’t need to be said again, or maybe it’s not glowing anymore and he doesn’t want to be the one to tell me.
There are those out there who will pooh-pooh any discussion about maturing skin. “Oh no, not that again. This is just another one of those tropes about aging.” (trope=a figure of speech, a common theme that we’re all tired of hearing about.) Well, it’s a trope until you’re there and it’s your skin. Then, it’s time to think back to elementary science class and remember that skin is the largest organ of the body, and thus, quite worthy of consideration. Exploring the best options for keeping it healthy is a good thing.
I already know some things about my skin. I know I’ve let too much sun get on it, but, in the days before the awareness about UV damage, a glowing tan was considered healthy. I know it’s been assaulted by life: heat, cold, grime, air pollution, lack of humidity, splinters and scrapes, kitchen knives and surgeon’s scalpel. I know I haven’t always kept an appropriate nutritional balance, probably too many slices of cake and not enough vegetables, and that makes it hard for skin to maintain and rejuvenate itself. I know I’ve been rather cavalier, ignoring my skin as if it’s just an external wrapper.
Now, I pay homage to it, for surviving all the hardships I’ve imposed on it, and I promise to do better. First a glass of milk, and then I’m gonna go wash my face and let whatever glow is there shine through.