Never underestimate the sneaky nature of father time.
Ahhh, the fragility of youth.
Today, as I was slathering on my anti aging complex and gulping down the blood of seven virgins I noticed a few things that have gone steadily downhill.
The elasticity was not what it once was and the lines on my forehead seem even more deeply etched than they had been before.
Now it could have been the lighting or that I’ve lost a lot of sleep over the last week or so, but I found it more unsettling than usual.
In years past I was all “ha ha time you’ve yet to catch up to me and put your bony fingers around my neck because of my spry youthful gait, optimistic outlook and good genetics”
Now my imagined youth is in shambles.
It’s these kids! They sucked all the collagen and life marrow out of me by behaving badly and causing my face to set with this furrowed brow and permanent agonized grimace.
There should be some sort of workmen’s compensation for my reduced attractiveness. Perhaps I should have set up a fund they could have contributed to during windfalls like birthday’s and first communions?
The untimely demise of my once good looks and properly placed body parts has probably been a more sluggish process than I’d care to admit. I’ve just been too busy to pay any attention until it was too late. Quite honestly the death of beauty should have shot to the forefront after I was recently shown photos where I had a hard time reconciling the person before me and the person I thought I was inside my head.
For so long I have been so sure of the immutable nature of my perpetual youth that I never bothered to consider father time would soon be shuffling up beside me.
So, age, infirmity and general unattractiveness , you can now consider this your warning to cease and desist because I’m coming for you.
Have done with it because the party over here has shut down. Go work your nightmarish aging magic on some granola ass dirty hippy who has embraced the life process and wants to grow old gracefully with wisdom and understanding .
I’m going to annihilate your sorry self with four hundred-dollar a bottle pig uterus lifting gel and a blow torch if I have to.
Invariably, I will win this war because of my mutant powers and a will of steel that helps preserve one’s youthful qualities just like formaldehyde.
I am also prone to explosive fits of rage and lots of seething when I don’t get the desired results I’m looking for (which in this case is non vampire related eternal Joan Collins/Julie Christy type youth).
So thanks for coming by for a test run and helping harden my resolve for the battle ahead. The struggle for my very soul, you ego killing silent creep!
The call to arms has gone out. Let the war begin.
