Confessions of a Wrinkle Cure Addict Okay. So I eat fish. Lots of it. Especially salmon, touted to be the miracle food to end all wrinkly saggy skin. I actually have pretty good skin, but sun, time and a bit of weight loss have rendered it less than perfect. Its lack of perfection is, I believe, responsible for pimply faced sales "boys" in Future Shop calling me "Madame" and asking if the all-in-one shelf-unit stereo I'm looking at is for my daughter. Let's be honest. Remaining thirtysomething for as long as possible is desirable. I don't need surgery, injections, treatments, lotions, potions, facemasks, or scrubs. I need salmon. Lots and lots of DMAE-filled salmon. Salmon for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Salmon. Salmon Salmon. Salmon is expensive. Very expensive. Something that Shakes the Clown doesn't understand. Seems that Shakes saw me at the market the other day. Yes, Shakes, I was hawking my shrimp peeler at the market. A legitimate thing to do when you don't eat shrimp any more because of its high cholesterol content. Yes, I *did* approach the busy fishmongers for fish scraps, but the scraps were for all the stray puddy tats I feed in my poor working-class neighbourhood. Not for me. Oh no. Pas pour moi. I hope you're thoroughly embarrassed. As embarrassed as when I gave you that mediocre mark for that equally mediocre paper you handed in. No money in the world could have made me give you a higher mark. I have, after all, my dignity. And my stray cats. But, sadly, very little in the way of salmon. Thanks...thanks soooooooooooo much...Think twice before making such wild accusations.

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