Freckles or Age Spots?

I need to stay out of the sun. 

I am freckling. 

On my hands. 

In the middle of winter. 

Through winter gloves and while in my office. 

Wow, the sun is REALLY strong. 

We really need to worry about the ozone layer and climate change because if this is happening to me, babies are in trouble.

WAIT.  HALT.  STOP.  I SAID, STOP.  THAT MEANS THE MUSIC, TOO. 

Those aren’t freckles, are they?  They are age spots, aka liver spots.

Say that with me, li-i-i-i-i-i-ver-r-r-r-r spots. 

Let me hear it. 

And look at your hands, too. 

And if you have them, too, say it louder

I CAN’T HEAR YOU.

That’s better.  I feel better.  You?

Two months ago, I was suckered into paying $600 for an ounce of mystery fountain of youth emollient.  Which we all know is the same as Duane Reade’s generic skin lotion only packaged in faux gold leaf. 

POB (partner of blogger) told me return it.  I was feeling buyer’s remorse, so I was glad that POB said that.  Although when face-to-face with the salesperson who sold it to me the day before, I had to blame stingy POB.  Because I am a wusssssss and I couldn’t say, “you know, this is too damn much for fancy packaging and we know there is no elixir of youth!!” 

Now, those who know me, know that I rarely shy away from giving my opinion and I am a bull-in-a-china-shop even when I try to be smooth.  So, this was aberrant behavior.  In truth I was embarrassed that a salesperson — a stranger — could play so well to my vanity, so much so that I would throw money away on that.

Now, though, I am looking at my li-i-i-i-i-i-ver-r-r-r-r spots, which could have been just freckles if I had used the elixir.  Hmmm.

Is this what they call, early-onset dementia???