What? No, not THAT, you mucky minds. I mean as in nose jobs, facelifts – what we coyly call “cosmetic work” – to make gnarled hands look as smooth as a newborn piglet’s bottom.
Some middle-aged women, let’s call them “lunatics”, are appalled that thinning skin has caused purple, bulgy veins to sprout on their mitts like 10p jelly snakes. They worry that this might give the game away that they’re not 21.
Madonna and SJP have been found guilty of possessing “old lady hands”, or, as some people call them, “hands”. So females are forking out shedloads for various treatments to avoid this terrible crime. They range from collagen injections to pumping fat from your buttocks into your aged paws until you resemble one of the Simpsons.
You might be booking your hand job right now, or you might be lighting a fag and deciding you don’t have a spare lifetime to care about such b*******. The existence of hand-lifts and earlobe-lifts is a sure sign that we don’t have enough to worry about, and should probably be locked in an amputation unit until we’ve stopped being such preening cretins.
Having said that though, my hands are looking a bit wormy these days. Yes, those veins are distinctly “OAP blue”. My friend says that whenever she sees old women with chicken-claw hands wearing beautiful rings she thinks, “Sorry, what’s the point? Those rings would look better on me.”
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Harsh, but true. Maybe just a quick hand job wouldn’t hurt? No, stop. This is the route to the padded cell. Besides – and this is the clincher for me – when did you last hear workmen on a building site shout, “Cor, look at the hands on that”?