Never give up! Never surrender!

A foldy toe.  Of all things.

I didn’t see this one coming.

You never truly expect all the inevitable "aging" crapola that’s coming your way, though, right?  Even though you’ve known all along that some telltale stuff is marching straight at you, two abreast, you can look over, under, sideways, down, and plain old ignore the certainty. 

For example, you know you’re going to wrinkle.  But still, it offends.  Wrinkles scandalize.  They appall.

There’s that OMG! moment when you look and you see and you understand that while you slept, creases crept up from the pillow case and settled onto your face.

Like you always knew they would.

They found their home, their happy home, and they don’t want to move.  Ever again.  Barring surgery of the type that would stretch your face into a Jack Nicholson Joker of a caricature of yourself. 

Nevertheless, you can’t help yearning for what you can no longer have.  It’s gone and there in the mirror is the new, old you.

And those rumpled ruffles didn’t arrange themselves appealingly in the socially desirable and marginally acceptable region set aside for laugh lines.

Oh no.  These are not crinkles that accentuate a twinkling eye.  These are lines and furrows more appropriately assigned to a wheat field.  And the crop is set for harvest.

We all know wrinkles are coming.  But who accepts their arrival?  Who welcomes them as an anticipated tenant?  No one! 

Some liars claim to love and respect them as signs of a live well-lived.  Ha!  I once had a dermatologist call liver spots “wisdom spots.”  Yeesh.

But OK.  What are you going to do?  Better than the alternative, right?  Hahaha. 

And gray hair.  OK, white hair.  Big deal.  I crawled into the bottle years ago on that one.  Denial perfected.

An ache.  A pain.  A spider vein.  Means nothing.  So what if I can’t eat fried food like I did back in the day?  Big deal!

Sleeping through the night?  Any sissy can sleep through the night!  Only the stout of constitution can nod off at midnight, get up at 2:30, 4:30 and again at 6 and still be (mostly) alert and productive every fine day!

But the foldy toe may take me down.

It developed on the golf course.  See?!  I play golf.  Twice a week!  I walk the course too!  Pull my own cart!  I’m young and strong and tough, I tell ya!

Anyway, as I was saying, I was walking up for my second shot.  This is when I usually give myself an “attaboy” for hitting it straight or a stern admonition for shanking it – again. 

But this time, my thoughts were drawn away from the bucolic 4^th fairway to the migration of my little toe.  As though responding to a hypnotic suggestion, it turned unannounced, inched away from its assigned station at the edge of my foot and worked steadily until it was tucked under its upright companions.

Whaaaat?

It didn’t hurt.  It just felt weird.  What are you doing there, Little Toe?  Why would you fold yourself under, thus?  What fear ye?

The toe said nothing and I kept quiet.

Members of my foursome suspected nothing.  They have seen me duff a fairway wood enough times.  They didn’t detect the shift in my sunny disposition.  That 3-putt was par for my course.

The rest of the nine, my mind held silent communion with the toe.  Instead of staying after for a celebratory Anchor Steam, I hustled to CVS and the Dr. Scholl’s aisle – you   know, where the old folks find remedies for foldy toes.

And there, nestled among the corn plasters and the arch supports, next to Odor-X and Freeze Away, I found these little gel cushion thingies that fit between and force errant toes to face the future head on, like the rest of us. 

So hooray. 

But how can one recover from the demoralizing knowledge that she’s shopping on the aisle right around the corner from the Ensure and down the way from the All New Silhouette Depends?

Stubbornness, that’s how.  Just because an apple falls one hundred times out of a hundred does not mean it will fall again on the hundred and first.

I will not surrender!  Oh no!  Not to a foldy toe!  

The Sally Field syndrome

 If you could only see me now, you’d know that I keep my palms up.

Between letters, of course.  Between pecking out each word on the keyboard, I always turn my palms up.

Sure, it slows me down, but it’s what all remarkably likeable people do.  So.  It’s my habit.  Totally unconscious.  Palms up – likeable me.

That’s one of the items I have checked off the list published by Robin Dreeke, former head of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Program and contributor to an article in Barking Up the Wrong Tree titled “How To Get People To Like You: 7 Ways From An FBI Behavior Expert.”  Keep your palms up.

Dreeke should know, right?  After all, who doesn’t love an FBI agent?  Their dance cards are always full!

He talks about conversational techniques like actually listening to the other person instead of just waiting for your turn to talk.  But let’s continue with the basics:  non-verbals.

Palms up.  Oh, and don’t forget to smile.  In fact, if you want to increase your smile’s power – and who doesn’t? – smile slower. 

Slower?  Really?  Seems creepy, but OK.  We’re practicing our Cheshire Cat.

What’s next?  Elevated eyebrows?!  What the heck?

All right.  I’ll try it.  I just hope I don’t get that surprised look, the sure sign of an amateur facelift.  Seems like that would be off-putting, diametrically opposed to getting people to relax, and therefore making them like me, which is, of course, the goal.

I mean, picture it:  You and I are introduced in a social setting.  I take your right hand with my right hand and shake it while touching you non-sexually on the upper arm or shoulder with my left hand– following the FBI ‘like me’ protocol – and thereby deftly putting you at ease with my sincere display of friendly care and interest. 

Then, maintaining good, open, comfortable non-verbals, my palms return to their upward orientation. 

Whew!  This must be what it’s like on screening day at Quantico!

And I wonder how you, my potential target, uh, friend, feel when I expand my repertoire to include elevated eyebrows?  You might cautiously retrieve your hand and shoulder, take a step back to give me a curious once-over, your newest irresistibly affable amigo, and who would see?  Phyllis Diller?  Bozo?  Jack Nicholson?  Nancy Pelosi?!!

Those folks all have big smiles and perpetually elevated eyebrows, but I’m not sure people near them feel free of anxiety.  Think “The Shining,” or US Congress! 

Here I conclude my likeability score will be tied to the altitude of the elevation.  Therefore, I shall strive for Goldilocks eyebrows – not too high, not too low; elevated just enough to mesmerize you without tipping you off to my designs on your friendship.

OK.  So far, I’m smiling with palms up and elevated eyebrows. 

Now what’s this?  Chin down?  This is getting tricky, but I think I can manage it.  

According to Dreeke the rule of thumb in artificially friendly interactions is “anything going up and elevating is very open and comforting.  Anything that is compressing: lip compression, eyebrow compression, where you’re squishing down, that’s conveying stress.”

Well!  We, the seekers of love from all whom we encounter, can’t have that!  No siree!  We won’t be pursing our lips or squelching our facial muscles.  No!  We’re open!  We’re comfortable!  Our non-verbals convey only the sweetest and most inviting of false emotions!

One last thing:  “…if you can show a little bit of a head tilt, that’s always wonderful.”

Tilting head!?  Sure!  Right or left?  Say the word.  I’ll tilt.  No worries! 

I’m ready.  I’ve rehearsed.  I can do this.
 
It’s feeling a little unnatural, like I’m in a strait jacket on crutches, but hey!  It’s all for the worthwhile goal of being popular. 

Ah!  Here’s my opportunity to try the FBI’s system.  My new neighbor has stepped into the alley.  He’s looking this way.  Our eyes meet.

OK.  Here goes:  Deep breath.  Palms up.  Eyebrows lifted.  Smiling.  Slowly! 

Hello!  Let me shake your hand and touch your shoulder!  Come on!  Nice to meet you!

Hey!!  (Head tilted right.)  Where are you going?!  (Tilt left.)  You know you want to be my friend!  You know you like me! 

You really, really like me…