30 Days to 10 years younger--10 minute tips. Tip 27: The legs are the last to go, and other stories

So often the story of aging is the story of irretrievable, irredeemable loss. A woman reaches the age of 38 and bam! She gives up. Because what's the point? Why bother to keep trying? An 18-year-old in a t-shirt and jeans looks better.

And maybe that's true. (Although a lot depends on the 18-year-old.)

But here's the deal. If you've had a good feature--and you have, even if it's your left elbow--then chances are advancing years have not eradicated every vestige of its loveliness.

I know I'm right. Here's how: I advise you to "shorten your skirts" and some of you reply "No way! My miniskirt days are long gone." But others of you say "Absolutely! Life is short and so are my skirts." We may not what we used to be--but we still remain just a little bit cocky about our good points.

And why not? Is it crazy to suppose that some of us have good legs? Seriously good legs, even though we're 40 or 50 or 60? Why not? Have you ever seen Diane Von Furstenburg's legs? They're epic.

Photo courtesy of The Catwalk Queen

So let's get this straight. I'm not saying we should revert to a wardrobe of tube tops and shorts shorts. I'm not saying we should buy all our clothes at Forever XXI, our accessories at Claire's, paint our fingernails dark glittery purple, Manic Panic our hair, only wear makeup colors outside the realm of nature, or cover ourselves with tattoos and piercings.

I am saying that if you had good legs in your 20s, chances are you still do. If you had great hair in your 20s, chances are you still have better hair than the other women your age. If you had pretty hands, what the hell--have some fun with your nail polish.

Me modeling O.P.I.'s Ink

Your assets don't evaporate when you turn 40. Aging and childbirth have done a number on my figure, but I have good hair. I've always had good hair and with luck, I'll always have it. I'll go strand-to-strand against any other woman my age.

Sure I'm jealous of my mother-in-law and the stretchy little undergarments she calls bras. It ought to be against the law for a grandmother to be that perky. But I don't let it give me the mean reds. When I feel envious, I toss my hair around, flounce out of the room, and head into my bathroom to inventory my nail polish collection.

As the French philosopher said, Mesdames, cultivez vos vernis! Cultivate your nail polishes. Or whatever your assets are.

They're still there, ready to be enjoyed. So go ahead and flaunt them.