October 09, 2025

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I look at my face in the mirror maybe twice a week, when I bother to shave. But right at this moment, I have no idea whether I have bags under my eyes or not.

I understand that there are people who absolutely obsess about eyebags. Or unwanted facial hair. Or a blemish or two.

It's like when, as a teen, you start noticing blackheads and pimples on your skin. You're absolutely sure that the only thing people will see is that flaming red zit on the tip of your nose.

And you're right. They'll see it. And then they'll forget it, because they're decent human beings and they know that facial blemishes are a part of life.

Oh, sure, there were jerks in your middle school who would taunt you about acne. But you're a grownup now. You know how to touch it up with makeup so it isn't so red. And if somebody makes a big deal about it, you know how to ignore them and quietly disappear that person from your life.

And now we're old. All the people in those TV ads who are ecstatic because of the lotion that makes it disappear for a couple of hours, are they insane? Those eyebags are coming back by morning.

It's like faking your picture on a dating app. You going to staple that picture over your face for the rest of your life? It was funny when Deadpool did it, but you might have noticed that Deadpool isn't real.

Women notice each other's appearance way more than men do. Maybe grownup men notice as much, but we don't care. And women overlook men's appearance all the time. If you're clever and funny and positive, do you think anybody of the opposite sex is going to consider eyebags to be a deal breaker?

Maybe I'm an exceptionally oblivious guy. When I look at those before-and-after pictures, I can see that yessirree-bob, the bags are very much reduced in size.

But you can still see the slightly discolored circles where the bags used to be. And the missing eyebags don't youthen the rest of the face. The only person to whom that difference is going to be significant is the person who obsesses about those eyebags in the mirror: you.

Maybe getting rid of eyebags will make you feel more confident and cheerful as you face the world. In that case, go for it. If it makes you happy, and it doesn't harm anybody else, why not?

But if you think it's going to make a lot of other people, except your very closest friends, regard you differently, think again.

Most people won't notice.

Most people who do notice won't care.

The ones who care are shallow -- don't bother with them. Besides, they already judge you because of your clothes and your politics and your profession. Who wants to hang out with judgey people?

You yourself are what matters. Are you kind? Generous? Compassionate? Cheerful? Articulate? Forgiving?

Are you the kind of person who doesn't care about other people's eyebags?

Then you already make friends pretty easily. You're already attractive, good company, welcome at dinners and parties and one-on-one conversations. Stop obsessing about your eyebags. You look just fine.

Among the saddest sights I've ever seen were in Los Angeles, at various malls and other public places, where you occasionally see a slender woman dressed to kill, except when you see her face, behind all the facelifts and nose jobs and thick makeup it's obvious that this is an ancient woman who can't get over not being 19 anymore.

But what 70-year-old wants to look 19? Admittedly, I'd like to have the joints and strength and stamina and flexibility I had at 19, but I wouldn't trade away all my experience and accomplishments and life in order to look like that cocky young idiot I used to be.

I'm 74. I look like a fat old man with a cane. That's because I am a fat old man with thinning hair, a ragged goatee, a cane, a slow gait, and a belly.

But at least I'm not lying in a box with a lid, and I can still carry on a conversation with interesting people, and I still know stuff that a few other people might want to know. What does my appearance have to do with anything? As long as I'm decently dressed in loose-fitting clothes, I feel comfortable enough to forget how I look and take part in life.

I'm wearing the face that heredity and experience gave me. I used to be cheerful and lively -- on stage, at least. But for the past few decades I've gotten a bit somber. Anti-depressants don't do anything for me, so I figure I'm just sad a lot of the time, and for good reason -- but I try not to dwell on the sad stuff.

There's no substance I can put on my face that's going to make the slightest difference in my mood, my mien, my aspect, my attitude, my character, or my conversation. And there's nothing you can put on your face that will change my opinion of you in any way.

If you've got money to burn and you have a serious mirror problem, sure, I won't think ill of you for debagging your eyes. But I also don't need you to do it, won't notice whether you do or don't have eyebags, and I won't choose whether to associate with you based on the minutiae of your appearance.

If you're kind and patient with your children and grandchildren and the children of strangers, then I'll find you interesting and attractive, because yes, I have learned that the surest guide to a grownup's character is how they behave toward children.

If you actually listen to children and respond to them positively, I catalogue you under the "good folks" column and I will enjoy spending time with you. Listening to a child with a smile on your face does far more to enhance your personal beauty than anything you can do to your skin. That applies to men and women pretty much equally.

Because of the way she treats children -- ours and strangers' -- I am married to the most beautiful woman in the world. I gave my kids the best possible mother, and their kids have an amazing grandma. I couldn't tell you if she has bags under her eyes or not. I have no reason ever to notice such a thing.

Because she goes around doing good, she's always learning interesting things to talk about with me, and that makes her fascinating and beautiful.

And you know what? She doesn't have to send away for any lotion or supplement in order to be that way. It's just who she is. It was also who she was as a 19-year-old when I first fell in love with her. She's only gotten better in the decades since then.

So I look at those anti-eyebag ads and it makes me sad. Because all those people look just fine in the Before pictures, and to me they don't look even a speck better in the After pictures. Nor have I ever noticed eyebags on the faces of any of my friends, male and female.

Next thing you know, they'll be trying to make you feel bad about veins standing up on the back of your hands, or creases in the bend of your elbow, or that embarrassing blob of skin hanging down at the back of your mouth.

That's when you mute the sound and talk to the people watching TV with you. Don't let the advertisers make you check your face in the mirror. You look great as you are, because you look exactly like yourself.