vanity

A strange confluence of events has led me to contemplate aging with much greater frequency lately: preparing to attend a wedding and see old friends, and realizing that it's been almost ten years since I first stomped the grounds of Albuquerque; mainlining Season 3 of Sex and the City over a period of a few days; attending the actual wedding, and comparing the creamy, unlined complexions of 25-year-olds with my own sheet-creased face (and those creases stay in for an alarming length of time after waking up); and now, the ultimate horror, looking at endless photos of the events in the Facebook vortex. I suppose it's inevitable in this age, when even my two-year-old nephew insisted on taking digital photos at his brother's gymnastics show yesterday, that we'll be confronted with ever more images of ourselves. But as I pored over my pores and rued the power of Lucrecia's flash, I couldn't help but wonder: Is the digital revolution, which makes it impossible to avoid ultra-clear images of yourself at every turn, making it impossible not to be vain?

[That was a nod to Carrie Bradshaw's super annoying habit of asking that exact same question in EVERY SINGLE EPISODE.]

So I don't know if I should blame the show's implicit ageism and obsession with appearance, the fact that I work with high schoolers and am immersed in youth culture, the internet, or my addiction to The Superficial, but I have been thinking a lot about adapting my life goals to include the following:

- Research an anti-aging diet, which will probably require me to quit drinking alcohol, drink two gallons of water a day, and eat things like kelp and acai berries instead of cupcakes for breakfast

- Start sleeping ten hours a day (instead of my current six) on a satin pillowcase

- Do whatever it takes to get my allergies under control, as I'm convinced they are the cause of my red eyes and perpetually chapped nostrils

- Find a gym and work out for two hours a day

Okay, I realize this (along with preposterously expensive cosmetics and the occasional "procedure") is the reality for many of my peers. It just hurts to realize that I either need to let go of my newfound vanity, or drastically change my lifestyle. Since I can't afford to have ass-fat injected into my face, I will need to either adopt the time-consuming DIY alternative, or accept the fact that I'll become a fat housecat instead of a cougar. Any bets on which one I'll choose?