Snakes and their charms

I envy snakes.  They shed their skins every year (or so).

Sidebar: I have no idea about timing, but I know that some snakes molt at some point in their life spans because I took enough science courses to meet the prerequisites to graduate from college.

Sider-bar:  I will confess to taking “Holes and Poles” (Human Sexuality) and “Oceans” (Oceanography) and, for the latter, doing a project called, “Songs, Jokes and Catch of the Sea,” where I played sea shanties, served the professor a gourmet lobster meal (purchased from a fancy restaurant) and, while he was dining (linen napkin and all), I told him jokes related to water. 

Sidest-bar:  As disgraceful as it is, it would be more disgraceful if I hadn’t been graduated from college and then my parents’ hard-earned money would have seemed like even more of a waste.

SIDEBAR uber alles:  Are you rethinking the importance of an Ivy League education?

[Oh, dear, I even digressed from sidebars!!!!  It will get worse, still, I promise.]

Snakes don’t get younger.  Their skins just lose the scars and damage of the year’s mistakes, fights and punishments.

And the snakes begin again.

Older, and

maybe wiser, and

surely as venomous or constrictive as the year before, but

certainly, EXFOLIATED.

And, when my skin is exfoliated (and, ok, throw in a collagen treatment, just for grins), well, there is NOTHING that this 50 year-old can’t do. (Except afford the next facial.) And I can dust myself off and try again to be all I could be.  

Ok, some boys and girls won’t understand this.  But, those who do, and YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, know that I am right on this.