The late Nora Ephron felt bad about her neck – she even wrote a book about it. I totally forgot about mine until it was too late. It happened overnight. When I was 53 I woke up one morning, looked in the mirror and was shocked to discover that my formerly long, lean neck now resembled a slouching sports sock. For years I had been dutifully applying hundreds or probably thousands of dollars worth of creams, oils, serums and even stem cell potions to various parts of my body with reasonably good results but I forgot all about my neck. Just assumed it would always be what it was. Since that initial shock several years ago, I’ve been trying to compensate, even beseeching the Goddess of Necks, Pernicious, to help me out but she’s unforgiving. I’ve tried manipulating the folds by lifting, pulling and smoothing the offending area with my fingers. If I clipped a clothespin to a vertical section of flesh at the nape of my neck I appear as I once did, but unfortunately I would never be able to face anyone in profile or from the back. And that clothespin hurt. Surgery is just too scary and expensive and I don’t want friends to know I’m that vain. I could become a Muslim and hide everything but my eyes under a veil. But then I could never visit Quebec or France. So I’ve decided I’ll just put on a smile and pretend I don’t notice – chin-up, as they say.