OT

I don't smile enough.

Those who know me personally or just well enough to recognize me on the street are now objecting. But Georg, you say, you smile all the time. I'm smiling because I see you. Feel better?

It's when I'm alone I notice I don't smile much. The wrinkle in my forehead that I make while I work or figure out a small problem is growing more than my crow's feet. I remember finding someone attractive just because of of the happy wrinkles under their eyes when they smiled. I wanted to grow up to have happy wrinkles so I look like I'm smiling even when I'm not- not relax into a sad worried look.

There's nothing wrong with wrinkles or age spots. We're all going to get them, should we live so long. It's natural. So is my gray hair. I welcome it. I've grown and I've changed, and there is nothing wrong with being proud of that. I still get a little creeped out by faces that aren't natural- the botox or face-lifts that pull the skin tight they don't even look completely human any more. Laura Bush's eyes are a great example of this. I can't bear to look at her- I feel as sorry for her unnatural face as if she had been born without a nose. And I have known someone my age who was born without a nose. It was hard to become friends with her, but I did my best. I loved Gram's wrinkles. They were definitely well earned, and she had so many they could not be happy or sad- her wrinkles had wrinkles and it could have been a map of blue roads and country lanes anywhere. But when she smiled, she smiled with her whole face and her eyes just glowed from the joy in her heart.

I like to think I have her smile. So it's sad when I think I don't smile enough.  ¶ 1:07 PM