I’m working on an idea that I think could be pretty cool.  Like all really great ideas, it comes with a glitch or two I’ll have to iron out.  What I’m working on is a way I can look good in public when I get older. I mean look really good.  And, I mean when I’m really older.  Even older than now.  Say, when I’m in my late 60s and early 70s. 

I know the easy way.  Cosmetic surgery.  But, that’s not for me.  I don’t want to be snipped and nipped and tucked.  I look at TV personalities I’ve watched for years, and now they don’t look the same.  They have new lips, new eyes and a new nose.  The only way we know who they are is when the news media posts an old photo next to the “new” them. 

I’m basically OK with who I am and what I look like.  In fact, I’ve made it a mission to wear my “baldness” like a badge.  I told a friend who likes to tease me in public, “If I looked like you, I’d want hair, too.”  To me, the prettiest women in the world, and the most attractive men, are those who look their age, even if they don’t care to act it.

There are people who have gone through painful surgery just to look younger. Or thinner.  Or prettier.  (But never smarter, it seems to me.)  When questioned, they share their tales of pain and discomfort.  Of course, the single question that comes to my mind is, “Then why did you do it!”  One lady in her 60s is tiny enough and wrinkle-free enough to look like her daughter – in the face.  But, surgery doesn’t mask the neck and the hands.  So why bother?  Why go through all the child-bearing, child-raising years that make you look so much older if you’re not going to make your children feel guilty for aging you by parading around like a prune?

I’ve got an aversion to painful, elective surgery.  It’s called being a chicken.  I don’t want pain when I have a choice.

So, I’m working on a new plan.  The first phase of my plan is probably the toughest.  I would have to win the lottery first, just to afford it.  But, after that, the idea has some merit.  I’m going to hire a body double.  I’ve seen the movies.  I saw a star in a movie the other day who is older than me, by a bunch, and there’s no way he could look that good.  This was one of those romantic scenes in which clothes are NOT the prominent theme, which is another story!  The only way I would every play a naked love scene is if it’s with the lady who watched me age… and if the lights are out.

But, back to the movie.  Let me tell you something.  There is no way that a 60+ year old man, no matter how good looking or how well he tries, will have a rear end that looks as young and firm as the one facing the camera in that movie.  The camera took its time, don’t you know, and there was no doubt.  That was a 40-year old tush on a 60-plus-year old body.  I know.  I own a 60-plus-year old tush, and there is no way it could naturally look 20 years younger. 

So, I’m checking into the idea of hiring someone to stand in for me.  I’ve always wanted to walk down the beach and have people say, “Wow, at his age, look at the shape he’s in.”  However, I haven’t quite figured out how to do that without having my double wear a sack over his head and a sign that says, “Hi, I’m Bob Owen.” 

I told you there is a glitch.  I’m working on it.  I’m working on it.