Cinderella Has Cellulite (5 page)

On the other hand, if the nightclub bouncer stops you Lovebirds at the door and insists on proving you are legal and your handsome escort pulls out his senior discount card, you could be labeled the kitten with the alley cat! Although true love has no boundaries, and we’ve all heard, “age doesn’t matter,” expect some raised eyebrows! Hold tightly to his flaccid mid-section—you are in for some rough remarks.

Can you believe how young she is?
We all know what she’s after . . .
and it’s not his body!
We all know what He’s after . . . her body!
How disgusting, trying to relive his youth.
She must be desperate to be with him!
I bet He pops Viagra!

Your aging Lord of the Manor thinks nothing of introducing the family to his trophy. After all, they will surely see immediately how much the two of you are in love. He can hear the accolades now for having picked a delectable queen for his castle. No unsightly bulges under the caftan for this frisky, young feline.

Your family is not so sure. They assume He’s gonna die a long time before you’re ready for the plowed field. You’ll have to raise the kids by yourself. “Will you get his social security?” they want to know. “If so, how much is it?”

Face it, Barbie, your Ken is graying and fraying. He’s into Sinatra and you want Justin Timberlake. You order a dirty martini and He orders a shot of Mylanta. You are having a mid-afternoon snack while He is downing his last soft diet before early-to-bed. Close your eyes at bedtime as He crawls between the sheets and asks for another blanket. You still have a ways to go before your hot flashes.

If your unlined skin and tight thighs are made of alligator, and you don’t mind the arrows flung your way from everyone (and I do mean everyone), you could be in safe terrain. As you are thrust headlong into a previous generation, stock up on reading material, especially the latest issue of
AARP
magazine. Make sure his cardiologist is now a “favorite” in your contact list. On the upside, your body’s imperfections will no longer be important as you accompany him to the cataract surgeon. Just ask yourself before you plunge into the land of the elderly, “Do I really enjoy Sunday afternoons spent with his friends at Golden Acres?”

I
f you have had at least one wedding shower, make it the last. It is considered gauche to have multiple showers for multiple weddings. You surely have the requisite mixer, blender, and carving knife.

I know, it is really tempting to whisk over to the nearest Williams-Sonoma and add your name to the bridal lists so all of your well-wishers will bestow more goodies on the happy couple. And I know what you’re thinking: “Darn, an opportunity missed.”

Miss this one. Any announcement blaring, “We will soon be merging households” should be sans any reference to “The couple is registered at . . . ”

If you pale at the thought of no new treasures and having to mix your smoothies with his avocado green blender, simply make the best of it, Pollyanna. Or open a new joint account at Target and feather your own nest.

In regard to lingerie showers, Girls—don’t fool yourselves. The rules are simple for a happy Prince:

If you’re under 30, you need to wear nothing at night!

If you’re 30–45, his white shirt and flannel pants will suffice as your flesh might be a little softer than you’d like.

50 and over: Wear the 30–45 year old attire, just dim the lights.

Over 65: I suggest total darkness and no gifts. Even gag gifts make us gag at a certain age. No need to rub salt in the wounds!

T
he wedding, what a minefield! This is often where the real drama starts. William Shakespeare did not give us much of a revelation when he wrote, “The course of true love never did run smooth.” The path to planning the perfect day has never been easy, and believe you me, the petal-strewn walk down the aisle will be no bed of roses either!

“Honey, you can have any kind of wedding you want . . . ” he may whisper to you in the early stages of bliss. Don’t fall for this as you fall into his arms. Be as wary as an alley cat eyeing a bowl of milk placed by a fence. You want a big wedding at a romantic destination or in a sweet, simple chapel, while He wants his ex brother-in-law (his best friend!) to be his best man. This is part of the big bag of trash you both bring to the relationship that sometimes can never be disposed of, but perhaps can at least be compacted.

Regardless of the location, your special day is likely to be an assembly of friends, foes, and dysfunctional family: His, yours, Hers, and theirs! This celebration brings out the best and the beastly! Your perfect day will be analyzed and scrutinized from all sides.

His female friends, especially the ones He bedded or potentially bedded, will be furious. There is no better description—they are all up in arms and wondering what kinds of tricks you pulled to get him.