I ran into a former officemate at the mall last weekend with her older sister. We’re of the same age, she has a 14-year old daughter, and she looks fabulous! Her sister, a few years older, has clear taut skin, no excess fat in her fit and tight body. Their genes make me feel inferior!
Way back, she was the first person I know who brings fresh vegetable salads to work for lunch, and snacked on fresh fruits. She would scold me after my yosi breaks, complained that I smell like an ashtray, and with a well-meaning lecture to kick my dirty habit (I finally did almost 5 years ago). They’re a family of health-nuts---no saturated fat, salt and preservatives, just green, leafy crap that I hated. She and her sister are effortlessly gorgeous women with a radiant healthy glow about them.
My genes descend from a long line of meat-loving, soda-chugging folk, whose idea of exercise is brisk-walking to the street corner for some deep-fried banana-Q, with ice-cold Coke as pantulak.
Somebody told me that I still have some sex-appeal (promise…I didn’t invent that one!:D), but decades from now---when the baggy layers under my chin meet my chest, when my tummy is as big as my boobs, the under side of my arms develop bat-wings that would cover my elbows, and I’m scraping my fat butt from a rocking chair---my old officemate would probably look like a batch-mate of my 30-year old cousin.
Will timeless charm and enviable wit be enough to comfort me by that time? Not likely!
So ladies (and gents na rin), before you light that cigarette, chug on a can of soda, bite into that juicy cheese burger, or chew on that french fries, you should do a mental age morph of yourself. On second thought, go ahead---I'll see you in Vicky Belo's waiting room soon!