It’s hard to age gracefully when the older you get the more you notice how much you’re becoming like your parents…
I started out just sounding like them. Occasionally I’d bark an order at one of my children that would sound remarkably like something my mother would say, and cringe. Then randomly I would walk into a room and forget what I was about to say, only to have my parents laugh hysterically at me. Then I had an eye test, and found I’d inherited both of their eye-sight deterioration, albeit minor. But lately it has reached a whole new level… I’m starting to take on their looks, and I don’t mean in a when-you’re-little-and-people-compare-you-kind-of-way, I mean in a grey-hair-and-wrinkles-kind-of-way.
In a perfect world, there would be a form on which I could tick all the boxes next to the attributes of my parents that I’d like to have in myself. The same form would also ask me to put crosses in the boxes next to those genes I wish to have skip a generation or preferably wipe out altogether. Ideally, this form would be available as a PDF internet download anytime from the age of 40.
For me, by 40 I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted from my family gene pool after living with real life interactive versions for that many years. It’s a bit like a ‘try-before-you-buy’ situation, but without the requirement of a credit card number or the pressure of having to RING NOW! Selecting which boxes to tick is very much like going to a shopping mall; there are the shops you know you like, the ones you know you don’t like, and then there are the department stores and supermarkets that carry the basics as well as sale items, specials and scoop purchases. However, my option gives you the time-saving ease of shopping online in the safety and comfort of your own home (even in your tracky-dacks or PJ’s).
So now I’ve developed my wish-list, it’s time to go shopping!
Freckles: Say what you like, I don’t want them. In my humble opinion, the only place freckles have ever looked any good is on a Bennetton model. There was an old expression that went “the only place for freckles is your bottom”, and I don’t want them there either.
Pointless Pinky-Toe Nails: Say no more.
Bow-Legs: No amount of Vivian Westwood clothing could hide the parallel vertical bell curves that are Sarah Jessica Parkers legs. These are definitely a crossed box.
Dimpled Chin: Reese Witherspoon makes it adorable. John Travolta made it seem irresistible. For me however, I don’t want anything on my face that might compete with my mouth for attention.
Birthmarks: These are like mother nature’s tattoos. Neither can possibly look any good once things wrinkle and head south.
Widows Peak: I’m a greying brunette, now is not the time to take on the look of Lily Munster.
So which features do I want? (Oh, and before you go accusing me of genetic modification, I prefer to look upon it as being pro-choice)
1950’s – 1960’s Waistline: Ever notice how back in those days nearly all women had the tiny waist + sexy hips combo? Anne-Margaret, Audrey Hepburn, Sophia Loren – these ladies knew how to rock a hipster bikini. I’d be thrilled to have those Marilyn Monroe-esque proportions without having to jump up and down long enough to lose my body-weight in sweat and eat nothing but protein.
Long Strong Finger Nails: I got Dad’s nails and marsupial hands: small, workers hands with nails that break as soon as they separate from the cuticle. I’d like my Mum’s hands and nails – she’s the poster-lady for Cutex.
A Brain For Business: Both my parents are pretty savvy, but I feel the need to check this box as it doesn’t always seem to automatically get passed on [see James Packer].
24 Hr Menopause: I’m ready now. Bring it on.
Double-joints (aka hypermobility): Frankly this shouldn’t require explanation [see Valentines Schmalentines blog, the part referring to swinging from the chandelier]
So you see, we really don’t have to get all hung-up on genetic cloning and artificial intelligence, all we need is someone to put forward my proposal and negotiate the terms & conditions with Mother Nature. Any takers?