Age before Beauty?

Time is cruel, at least that's what they say... As my 31st birthday approaches, I think I'm beginning to understand the phrase in a whole new way... Lest you think I'm about to blabber on about the passage of time or something that actually matters, let me reassure you that what I'm really on about is cellulite and crow's feet.

So... there I was, wandering through the aisles of Penneys looking for a cheap pair of track suit bottoms (that's sweat pants for my North American peeps). I found a few pairs that weren't pink and didn't say baby or hot-stuff or jail-bait on them and off I went to the dressing rooms. Now dressing rooms are just cruel places... maybe light is the real problem and not time cuz that greenish flourescent light would make Cindy Crawford look like $hit. I have always been slightly horrified by all the lumps and bumps of my physique in front of a full length mirror under that unforgiving light but I have now graduated to looking back and forth from my ass to my face with equal horror.... cottage cheese leg...crow's foot....lumpy tummy...laugh lines....dimply ass...furrowed brow. It's enough to make a girl run out the door and straight to the botox clinic. (Okay, maybe I do still have a few principles left. I'm not yet desperate enough to inject poisons into my face... but give me a few years.)

It's great to look forward to huh? A lifetime (well, maybe half a lifetime at this point) of insecurities and slow downhill slide. I'll have to start slathering my face with oil of olay while running on a treadmill, eating handfuls of anti-oxidant vitamins, and listening to stress-reducing new-age music on my ipod except that that sounds pretty horrible. Ah well, fuck it, I'd rather eat a bowl of ice-cream and take a nap... Does icecream have any anti-aging properties?