This just in: Germany is looking for an adventurous female human surrogate for some 30,000 year old Neanderthal DNA. I hate to disappoint all of you fertile human women who were interested, but I’ve already applied for the position. I have been dreaming of this moment for years – the time when my intellectual fascination with anthropology would meet my obsession with babies at a perfect crossroads. A time when I could yell at everyone who balked at my earning both Anthropology Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees while dreaming of eventually having the money and time to have a child, “Guess what, guys? I am pregnant. And not just with any stupid human baby. It’s a (50% human) girl (cooked up in a lab with the help of some DNA from a Homo sapiens sub species from the Ice Age)!” I might have to work on the wording of that for the announcement.
Speaking of old things and babies with crows feet, until this past week, I had really only considered my newest self-centered concern in the fleeting moments I’d read about it in Glamour magazine, on the page nestled right between the anti-wrinkle advertisements and the airbrushed photos of the latest celebrity cover girl. However, I can now safely say that I am a woman with both acne and wrinkles. There was a glorious time in my early 20s when, with the help of Accutane and hormonal birth control, I managed to have good, healthy-looking skin for about four years and now it is all downhill from here. Wonderful. In addition, a friend at work pointed out (and then forcibly removed from my head) my very first gray hair this week. Oh, youth – it was fun while it lasted.