Que Fue?

Last spring, I read an article on MSN declaring Spain as home of some of the most beautiful people in the world. It held up folks like Antonio Banderas, Penelope Cruz, and Javier Bardim as proof of the country’s genetic superiority. I have to admit, there are some ridiculously good looking people here. Though nearly every Spanish child is born with gorgeous brown eyes and olive skin, a lot of the beauty is a result of hard work. The Spanish dress well, the women apply make-up and do their hair, and even the men take care of their appearances. So I’d have to agree with the article, but only to a point.

Something strange and horrible happens when the people here turn somewhere between 35 and 40. There’s a sudden lack of teeth and overabundance of large moles. Women draw on their eyebrows and pluck their beards. Men have huge comb-overs that sometimes draw from the hair in their ears. There’s a unilateral grayness of skin and yellowing of eyes. It’s as if the hands of time smack them right across the face.

I personally think it’s all the wine, cigarettes, and unsafe sunshine catching up with them. But whatever it is, it’s sudden and tragic. Individuals who could easily be Calvin Klein models are reduced to the people on anti-smoking ads in a matter of a few years. It’s sad.

When people meet me, they always say, “Que joven,” meaning “How young she is!” When they find out how old I actually am (28, almost 29), the reaction is one of open-mouthed shock. I used to hate the fact that I always looked so much younger than I am and people used to tell me, "Some day, you're going to appreciate it." They were right. While I'm no Penelope Cruz, I guess I have some pretty good genes myself.