And the universe said to snip my eyes.

A year or so ago, one of my fabulous nieces, the one who works for the plastic surgeon, mentioned that I might want to consider having my lids done. Another of her aunts had it done and she said it was a quick and easy procedure and she was AWAKE the whole time.

"You were awake while somebody cut your eyelids?!" I asked. I'd like to say I considered having it done for a minute or two, but the possibility of signing up for this didn't cross my mind for a second. Until I saw this picture:

At first, I blamed my bassett-hound dog eyes on my iridescent eye shadow that seemed to highlight an area that didn't need any attention called to itself. I spent 45 minutes with a Sephora beauty expert to locate a non-sparkly shadow. The first one she offered up was called "smudge pot," and clearly meant for some firm-lidded young thing. How many times have I heard "skin loses its elasticity as we age?" It's not true. The skin on my eyes is extremely elastic and capable of seismic shifts--I think I could stretch it all the way to my ear. I eventually found a creamier version that I could glide across my highly movable eye canvas.

This was not enough for the Universe. My Pilates partner works in the plastic surgery field and apparently the resident surgeon who's currently rotating through niece's office is a wunderkind, the best of his field! And he's leaving in two weeks! If I was ever going to do it, now was the time.

Next Wednesday I will go to Palo Alto and return sans two little crescents of my eyelids--those I'm leaving behind like extra baggage.

I will then be sporting a bandage across my face for the next five days and orders not to elevate my blood pressure too greatly, i.e. no exercise. Expect many pathetic posts. I hope this is not a slippery slope I'm stepping onto.