Jan 08, 2010 04:18 PM
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Considering that I am sitting on the proverbial age fence, on neither side of thirty yet, this seemed to be the right time to begin precautionary measures! Thought I’d beat the rush to a younger looking skin! Hope to meet wrinkles, dark spots, worry lines and dull skin as strangers in the night, just passing each other on the road called age and not even waiting for introductions.
Watching a bevy of progressively aged(by Bollywood standards) beauties guarantee a miracle, I decided, this would be the ONE, the alchemic solution to the dreaded OLD AGE! 800 bucks for a measly 50 gms would be worth the last laugh I’d have at 60 yrs, looking younger than grandmamma Shobhaa De, more glorious than Meryl Streep and as glamorous as Rekha does!
So I hid the smallish bottle(presumably from the husband, needn’t have, he merely picked up the bottle and nonchalantly asked….isn’t this for OLD LADIES? Grrr!) among the monthly groceries, hoping it will get lost in the billing amongst the pohe, olive oil and oatmeal. A week into it and I already felt better. The havoc wrecked by the rush hour Bangalore traffic started to get lost below the thin film of the soufflé like yellow cream, my face shone and the carefully nurtured worry lines seemed a little reluctant to make their presence felt. I would have dismissed it all as wishfull thinking or buyers justification until one day the husband casually asks if I’ve been to the parlour. May seem ordinary to a lot of women who get wooed and romanced by their attentive spouses but for me it was like an A-bomb. The guy wouldn’t know if I’ve spent the whole day at a saloon get my head shaved bald!
The fun part was when in my total Indian-ness I convinced my husband to pry open the fancy little bottle so that even the dregs of beauty could be scooped out in the endeavor to become Cleopatraesque ethereal in my good looks. First, out came the nozzle, then an inner plate where my husband noted that not a drop of the miracle potion was left, unless I wanted to rub my face right into the bottle. But I persisted and eventually out came the sub-inner plate too and viola….it’s empty. You should have seen his face….couldn’t stop saying ‘I told you so’ for days afterwards as he pointed out that my quota of the promised 50 gms was far over before the prying and opening began…but silly Indian housewife me!
So now the carcass stood forlornly on my bathroom shelf…I felt the need to keep it there just to justify the 800 bucks paid for it. But then the husband turns to me and says, ‘well afterall it did serve its purpose…your skin looks positively radiant’! I’d like to think that it was Olay and not the days’ worth of natural skin oil shining through. I resolutely picked up the bottle and chucked it into the waste bin on my way out for another one, this time a 100 gms!
So to all those young ladies still happily in yours twenties and light years away from being sad faced women on the wrong side of thirty, this is what I have to say: Yes, it really works!
