An open letter to my body:

Dear body,

I hope you realize the effort I go to to take care of you. I do things like pull my sorry behind out of bed at 5 am to work out (and trust me, I'd rather have that extra hour of sleep). I go to bed at 9 so I can get enough hours of sleep before it's time to pull my sorry behind out of bed, etc., etc. I eat foods that I'd honestly rather not, and avoid foods that I'd really like to have more often. I do that all in the name of protecting you and keeping you healthy.

I brush my teeth twice a day, and I floss every night, even when I'm really, really tired. I'm also very careful about what chemicals I put in you - you know, I read labels. And I've never touched a cigarette or illicit drugs. I don't even use decongestants, for goodness' sake, because I know you react badly to them. There have been times I've suffered more with a cold or a sinus infection that I probably needed to, just to protect you from side-effects. And on the rare occasions I've consumed alcohol, you will notice that it's never more and most-often less than a glass of wine. And consumed with food, I would note. And never too soon before I am going to be driving.

I also wear my seatbelt whenever I drive. And I buy sensible shoes, which I know has earned me behind-the-back nicknames from my students - nicknames that I'd rather not have, and which, to be honest, do not correctly describe me or my proclivities. But I've also seen enough eighty-year-old women with hammertoes and bunions to know that ugly shoes make for happier feet as you age.

And I wear sunscreen, and a big hat when I'm out in the sun. And you will kindly notice that I am even more diligent about wearing sunglasses when I'm outside or even driving on a sunny day, especially after D. telling me about her mother's eyelid skin cancer.

I do all of these things to take care of you.

So, lately, I have noticed a distressing development that I'd like to bring to your attention. And I am going to state it as a simple choice.

Choose one:

a. Grey hairs

b. Acne

But NOT both. Please. It's too confusing for me to have the face of a teenager and the hair of a middle-aged woman. And yes, I HAVE noticed those few strands that aren't blond highlights - you thought you could hide them close to my part, no? Well, I spotted them. And I think it's to my credit that I've not pulled them out, nor have I rushed to the hair salon to cover them up with dye. I accept that I am very nearly 36, and such a thing is a normal part of being my age. And yes, I remember that my Uncle T. was very nearly white-headed by 34, and my mother was further along than I am by this age, so I've beaten the game a bit.

But for the love of all that's good, why do I still get zits, if I'm going to go grey at the same time? It's just not right, I tell you. I've given up moisturizer, which of course means my makeup sinks into my skin by 9 am leaving me looking pale and pockmarked for the rest of the day. And as for makeup - you notice I use that expensive Clinique stuff, no? The kind that is supposed to be hypoallergenic and non-comedogonic? The kind that's about three times the price of the drugstore crap that most women are capable of using? I do that for you. I don't talk for hours on the phone or touch my face excessively. And even though it's claimed that a fatty or high-chocolate diet DOESN'T really cause acne, I've limited my intake of both.

So, to sum up: Grey hairs, I'm cool with. Acne, I was ready to be done with by age 20, it's been sixteen years now and I'd really like it to quit. And both grey hairs and acne are just so not cool. Ok? Copacetic? Thanks for your consideration on this.