Help! Help! I've Been Bieber-ized!

my eye, creepy

"Guess my age," the customer said.

I hate it when people ask me to guess their age. It's a trap every time. No exceptions.

"I'm terrible at guessing people's ages," I said.

"No, really. Guess how old I am." She kept grinning at me like she could barely contain this really sweet secret.

"Oh, I couldn't. I have no idea. Really." Mentally, I was crab-walking away into my happy place.

"Well, let me guess yours, then," she said. She studied my face and looked at the skin around my eyes. "You're 28, aren't you?"

I was so thrilled with her guessing me ten years younger than I am that I, in turn, did the same for her. She looked pleased.

Being that I haven't escaped our culture's false valuation of youth, I decided to celebrate by buying myself some nail polish the colour of 1950s kitchen appliances.

What I didn't notice at the time is that my nail polish came with extra Justin Bieber.

the Biebs is in my nail polish

The Biebs! He's in my girl varnish!

My new nail polish was supposed to be a celebration of my youthy zestfulness, but, once I found out that it was actually a Bieber-ized shade known as My Lifesaver, I just felt kind of weird. It just doesn't seem right for a thirty-eight-year-old to have anything from the Biebs near her person unless she is his close relative.

Like, if the Palinode started wearing Selena Gomez socks or body glitter or something, I would think HELL NO, SIR, YOU HAVE A PROBLEM.

Instead of youthful, I feel like a weird old lady, and now I can't wipe the image of the Palinode in Gomez-ized body glitter out of my brain.

Not that that is such a huge stretch of the imagination.

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