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Snow, mixed precipitation predicted this weekend

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Texas woman goes out on limb to prevent tree-trimming

I&#8217;m so vain.Not to the degree of considering plastic surgery, although, let&#8217;s be honest, if there&#8217;s a coupon for a minimally invasive face lift, sign me up.I just don&#8217;t want to sag. That&#8217;s all.And my laugh lines, which were once considered adorable, are now as deep as the Delaware Water Gap and appear to connect my mouth to my cheeks, a la marionette. Not cute anymore. Not even if my name is Charlie McCarthy.Not cute in the least.I&#8217;ve tried all that&#8217;s within my power and that of the world wide web to deliver youth back onto me. I&#8217;ve tried creams, serums, retinoids, and even frownies. Frownies are little pieces of triangular adhesives that you literally stick onto your problem areas. When I was done, I looked like an envelope ready to be air-mailed to Thailand.Ridiculous.When my sister, whose husband is a plastic surgeon, asks what I want for my birthday, I always answer: skin that snaps back. I was hoping this would be the year she&#8217;d comp me some Botox, but instead she sent me a tiny vial of a Glycolic acid peel.I rolled my eyes.This wasn&#8217;t even enough to swab the vast facial property known as my forehead but last night, bored and old, I decided to slather it on.Instructions for application advise to wear gloves and apply with a gauze pad. That&#8217;s funny; that&#8217;s how I usually apply my Preparation H, too.I thought gloves were overkill, so I just scooped that magic from my cauldron onto my face and marinated, while reading The Kardashian Chronicles, or Star Magazine.I knew I was in trouble when my fingers began to singe like I stuck them in my EZ Bake Oven. The intense burning of my chin followed. I tried to ignore it as I scoured the pages of my magazine and perused the Stars without Makeup section. (I sure don&#8217;t look like that without makeup. Liars.).Trying to ignore the deep sting across my cheeks, I began fanning myself with Kim and Kanye the paper versions.Whew. This was not what I was expecting.The initial scalding was not as excruciating as kidney stones but as uncomfortable as say, pink eye. By the time I realized the scorch was reaching levels I was equating to childbirth, it was too late.I washed that stuff off and air dried by frantically running up and down the hallway, screaming: &#8220;What in the hell?&#8221; I was dotted with large red splotches from forehead to chin and sadly resembled a Republican diorama of the USA. I immediately Googled the crap out of an antidote and all I found was that the raw piece of rib eye that was now my face was &#8220;normal&#8221; and it will look worse before the problem skin sloughs off.Sloughs?Like a tree crab? An Amazon Milk Frog? An elephant, man?I was the Elephant Man.I thought about calling 911, but here&#8217;s how I imagined that going down:&#8220;911. What&#8217;s your emergency?&#8221;&#8220;Uhhh &#8230; an acid peel without doctor&#8217;s supervision.&#8221;&#8220;That&#8217;s not an emergency ma&#8217;am.&#8221;&#8220;Well, if it looks like someone put a cigarette out on my face, it is!&#8221;*Click.*The next morning, I want to say I had the face of a meth addict, but I don&#8217;t want to insult meth addicts.It was bad. I cried.Why wasn&#8217;t I good enough the way I was? Why do I keep trying to make myself look younger when I wasn&#8217;t that great looking when I was younger?I just don&#8217;t want to look like Grandma Jiunta. But I don&#8217;t think Grandma Jiunta ever went to work with a paper bag over her head, either.&#8220;Hello? 911? I need a mental health evaluation.&#8221;*Click*<style>
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<div class="metaInfo"><bylineMeta>Maria Jiunta HeckLife Deconstructed</bylineMeta></div><div class="metaInfo"><shirttailMeta>Maria Jiunta Heck of West Pittston is a mother of three and a business owner who lives to dissect the minutiae of life. Send Maria an email at mariajh40@msn.com.</shirttailMeta></div>

Life Deconstructed: Trying to peel back the age of my face