I’m not getting all self-help with this list. No, Aging Gal is here to simply list blatantly vain things I don’t like about myself.
Numero Uno: My utter lack of directional sense. My sister, a geography major, got all those genes. I cannot tell you how many times, before cell phones or GPS, I had gotten lost driving in Los Angeles. You may say, “Aging Gal, this isn’t vanity or superficiality.” To which I say, “Have you seen a crazily crying, hysterically hormonal lost woman driver?” There’s nothing quite as hideous. Even if that driver is yourself.
This refers to the bald spot in the center front of my scalp. Bitty refers to it as Zero because I can look like I have a Zero Mostel-esque comb-over. It is uber-attractive, especially in a woman. While I am grateful to my Anglo genes when it comes to having very little leg hair to shave, I was pissed to realize at age twenty-five that my scalp already had massive bald spots. My hairline was turning on me, and I didn’t even have a Y chromosome with which to rule the world. Talk about feeling gypped.
Numeros Tres: The hair I DO have left which is becoming increasingly wiry and gray. Let’s face it: I’m wearing a fright wig. This is good for Halloween, not so much for every other day. The unattractiveness of my ‘fro snuck up on me when looking at photos from a birthday party. Bitty’s brother snapped a close-up of my head. I still haven’t finished convulsing from the horror.