Two age spots are on my face and one on my neck. They look like giant freckles. When I was younger I though it would be great if all of my freckles blended together but that never happened. Now many years later, I'm faced with this delimma. So today I took action and went to the dermatologist. He was kind enough not to refer to them as age spots; he was compassionate and called them PRE-CANCEROUS. He mumbled something as he took a cotton swab and dabbed something on my face and neck that felt like a combination of acid and hot wax. He warned that it might sting a little. Sting? I wasn't brave; I don't like pain. When he treated the spot on my neck, I swear I thought it was burning through to my throat and I just knew I would have to have a tracheotomy. The good doctor assured me that they would dry up and fall off before the reunion. They better. His parting words were, "Don't pick." A man of few words.
Then there is the issue of belly fat. I've heard that this happens to middle-aged women, but when did I turn middle-aged? This kinda snuck up on me. I want to wear my white linen pants, but I think they might be too tight. Breathing is very important to me and it might be compromised if I don't do something about what is often called, "muffin top." I get it.
So to solve this problem I bought this.
A hula hoop. Not just any hula hoop. This is weighted and holds water. There are other hoops at Sports Authority but those are seriously weighted, so much so that I could break my ribs if I let that contraption circle my waist. The duck tape is helping to hold it together and to keep it from leaking.
Now all I have to do it re-learn how to actually hula hoop and find some serious make-up just in case the spots don't fall off.
Thank goodness for class reunions. They make us take stock of our bodies and our lives, don't they?