What 50 Really Looks Like

There's a veritable mega-mall of anti-aging products on the shelves. Never have women had access to so much research and development devoted to creating the perfect elixir that promises prepubescent skin. All for less than $24.99 a bottle!

I swear, if unfriendly aliens ever invaded the earth, the first course of action should be to introduce them to the skin care aisle at the local discount store. This would keep them scratching their hairless heads long enough for the government to come up with a brilliant plan for blasting them back to the edge of the universe where, undoubtedly, they haven’t heard of Restylane. I mean, have you seen ET’s neck?

My own collection of facial treatments at the moment is fairly small, but that's mainly because, up until I turned fifty, I was in denial. But reality catches up with you, darlin’. Once I saw Oprah sans make-up, I knew it was time to either hire a team of stylists (which I can't afford), or start taking skin care seriously.

My mother, in her great wisdom and foresight, started me on the right track when she handed me with a tub of Abolene Facial Cleanser and a bottle of witch hazel for my 50th birthday.

"What's this for?" I asked, thinking maybe she was just cleaning out the medicine cabinet of stuff she couldn't use.

"It's for your face," my mother said, demonstrating—in case I had forgotten what part of the body that was--by rubbing circles on her cheeks. "You can't use soap any more; it'll dry your skin out."

Ah, enlightenment!

I dutifully stopped washing my face and switched to the Abolene and witch hazel. I wear sunblock. Everyday. I've packed my medicine cabinet with Vitamin C serums, wrinkle fillers, and off-the-shelf retinoid creams. I don't know if any of it will make a difference. I do know that all the moisturizers and anti-aging potions in the world won't help me remember where I parked my car. Still, it's a relief to know that while my body falls apart and my mind becomes a sieve, my face will look fantastic. Just no photos below the neck, please.