Growing old, my friends, is not for sissies.
When I first met my beloved Christian my skin was flawless, like a porcelain doll's.
Now it looks like MapQuest.
"What's the matter, my love?" Christian asks me softly, seeing me studying my face in the mirror.
I give him a sad smile.
"My mother, bless her heart, once gave me some advice," I tell him. "She said, 'Ana,' because that's what she called me, 'Ana, don't EVER grow old."
I pause, and Christian gently takes my hand.
"I should have listened to her," I say.
