My body is rebelling from the nose up

Okay, so I'm getting ready for work this morning and make a startling discovery. Still squirming from watching James Carville and Jesse Jackson almost-fight on the Today Show--it's like watching your parents argue--I leaned in to groom the ol' eyebrows. But my pluck turned to "f@#!" when I tweezed (twoze???) a long, silver eyebrow hair. Silver. Nearly white. All bad.

My eyebrows are going silver at 29. Hell, I could have Betty White's hair on my head and I'd never know...I haven't seen my natural hair color since '96. But my EYEBROWS? This is entirely unfair. And this isn't the first sign of aging body rebellion: all the years of making "Ohhhhh, nooooooooooooo!" faces started catching up with me in my early twenties, furrowing my little forehead into crease-a-palooza. That was infuriating enough. Sunscreen and over-priced face creams twice a day for nine years--NINE YEARS--and I have the lower face of a 29-year-old and the brow-area of Sam Waterston? Beauty Myth, indeed.

Okay, so the way I figure it, I have a month until I look like Doc from Back to the Future. Within that same month, Nanette--this brave, cool soul I know--will trek back to Burkina Faso where she's serving in the Peace Corps. This sort of parallel reminds to me to get my priorities in order...but worrying about it is just making my forehead wrinkles worse.

(If some bored, wayward member of a future civilization happens upon this blog, I hope I don't forever sully her image of our people. But I bet I do.)