Better than surgery, and cheaper!
I composed a series of exercises for the face about twenty
years ago. I have no idea how effective they are against staving off wrinkles
and drooping jowls as I have been practicing them since I turned 50. However,
people do say I look astounding for my age. (I take their compliments with a
grain of salt as most of them have no idea how old I really am and have never
bothered to ask.)
Whatever.
Considering there are 43 muscles in the face, it seems
logical that even if you firm up half of them, you’re bound to see results. The
exercises are easy to learn but difficult to practice as they make you look
like an idiot when you do them and who wants to look like an idiot?
The most potent of all my exercises is what I call, the
smile; a facial movement that has all but disappeared over here in Germany
from lack of application.
Again, I am unsure how effective this particular grimace is
in staving off the wear and tear of old age as I have practiced the smile
ever since I was old enough to understand flies are more attracted honey than
lemon juice. But I can attest to disastrous
results on faces where it is not put to use. I witness this every time I walk
out of our apartment. (Not to put down the German race, but in a culture that
is not known for its spontaneous bouts of ridiculousness, the effects of not
smiling are ever-present.)
(On the other hand,
America is also not without its representatives for dismal and dispirited
faces.
Considering the number of people one meets during the day, a
smile of greeting to each of them would firm up your cheeks in no time, even if
your president of the United States. Granted, it’s a bit of a chore to always
be the one who has to initiate a smile of greeting, but the alternative is disastrous,
(and is to be seen in each and every person you greet who refuses to return
your smile).
My father was a great example of greeting people with a
smile. He and my mother were living in Washington state when I went home for a
visit one year. I decided to accompany him on his morning runs up, over, and
around the golf course. We passed other joggers along the way, all of whom he
greeted with a broad smile and a pleasant, ‘Good morning, ’ as each one passed.
About a third of them bothered to return his greeting. (I found out later there
is a huge German contingent living in Washington.) I asked him if it bothered
him that so few people responded to his friendly smile. He answered with a
question. ‘For whom am I smiling if not for myself?’
Not that his face was firm as a ball of play-dough left out
of its container, despite his smiles. Probably because he didn’t have access to
the rest of my facercises. Who knows?
For those interested in a copy of my book, you’ll have to
wait until one of my other eight books becomes a best seller and I feel it is
worth the time and effort to write it.
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