"Gradually, and then suddenly"—that's how Michael describes going bankrupt in The Sun Also Rises, and it's the same with aging. At least it was for me. A trickle of insults became a flood. A skirt that had been just fine last summer now seemed inappropriately short. A liquor store clerk asked for my ID and laughed, as if he'd made a joke. I ran into a suspiciously fresh-faced friend, and when she confessed to Botox, I wanted to yell, "No fair using appearance-enhancing drugs!" Then I wanted to get some myself. I'm not sure when, but I'd crossed that invisible-but-visible line into middle age. And, worse, I'd been hit by a horribly modern malady: age shame.

That nagging feeling—I'm too old, I'm not doing enough to look younger—compelled me to write Drinking Problems at the Fountain of Youth. As a journalist and social observer, I felt an almost physical need to chronicle the experience of a woman aging in a culture that demands we stay forever 21. I wanted to expose wrinkle-reduction claims and absurd "remedies" like anti-aging gummi bears, and find out, once and for all, if anything short of cosmetic procedures works.  

But beyond that, I wanted to explore Seinfeldian issues: If everyone around you has work done and you don't, do you look older by comparison? (Yes. Einstein's theory of relativity also applies to appearance.) Why does almost every woman eventually succumb to the ear-level suburban hair helmet? (Who sits down in the stylist's chair and says, "I'd like a cut that will render me invisible to anyone under 30"?) Once you pass a certain age, is it possible to find a single garment that sends the message "Don't count me out, but I'm not delusional"? (Maybe, but you have to shop long and hard.)

I didn't set out to write a self-help book. Shining a Daily Show-type light on the Botox-Industrial Complex was my goal. I wanted to use humor to make the serious point that the War on Aging is harming us all, and that hostilities are escalating. But nearly every woman (and man!) I interviewed thanked me for taking on the forces that have led to preventive cosmetic work for 25-year-olds and that have conspired to make the rest of us waste emotional energy and time fighting fine lines. By the way, those lines—public enemy #1—are usually less than one tenth of a millimeter deep.

The message behind Drinking Problems at the Fountain of Youth isn't “let yourself go.” Rather, it encourages readers to step back from the mirror before someone gets hurt. And it reveals the easiest beauty tip of all: If you make others feel good about themselves, you'll look better to them. The secret to the fountain of youth, it turns out, isn't working on your own appearance; it's blinding others to your flaws.

Yours in SPF 55,
Beth Teitell