Roads we travel recorded on the odometer of life

By KRIS SHEARER Columnist Published:

"Some people try to turn back their odometers. Not me; I want people to know WHY I look this way. I've traveled a long way, and some of the roads weren't paved." -- Will Rogers.

It amazes, and often saddens, me the extent some people will go to in order to try to turn back the clock … or their odometers. Some celebrities have had so many face lifts, their knees are now part of their eyes. And I've seen some women who've had so much plastic surgery, they no longer look human. That is supposed to be attractive?

Reality check, people! We age! Just like our cars will accrue dings, crumples, scratches and dents throughout the miles their odometers will track, so will we as we pass through the years of our lives.

Cars that have traveled great distances and weathered some rough roads often show their travails on their bodies. I admire those cars that can take those rough roads. We owned a car once that "looked" great -- beautiful color, sleek design, nice metallic paint job. It looked fantastic … sitting in our driveway every doggone time it was broken, and that was often. It's outside body looked great, but the engine wasn't worth a nickel!

I dated several guys in high school who were considered "hot" at the time. A large percentage, though granted not all, of them treated me and every other girl they dated like crap. Granted, I also dated some less "hot" guys who were also jerks, but even that goes to show you can't always judge a person by outward appearance.

I've never understood this obsession with excessive surgery. Why not, instead, be content with the stories our lines tell?

Why would I want to "correct" the crow's feet around my eyes? They imply the stories of how many times I've smiled, how many books I've pored over in pursuit of knowledge, how many times I've squinted to catch just the right angle on a piece of art.

That gray in my hair? According to my stylist, that's just God's highlights (thank you, Lee Ann), so why would I mess with the Master's sense of style.

My thighs, why would I … well, OK, my thighs I would probably do something about …

But think back to when you were a kid. Did you really care at Christmas what the package looked like? Chances are you didn't. You were more concerned about what was actually IN the package. Who cares if the package was all pretty if it had reindeer poop inside?

Like that crummy, though "pretty" car we owned, I don't much care how many miles my friends' odometers have on them; I'm much more concerned about the miles their hearts will travel with me on this journey called "life."

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