Was it Brett Butler (the "Lenny Bruce of the South") who referred to that lovely furrow we women get between our eyebrows as that indication of intelligent thought? I've always mentally referred to mine as a worry line, just as those next to both my eyes and my mouth are smile lines to me. I suppose I could just as easily credit the stress on my eyes to squinting -- but I smile with my eyes. As I mature, and continue to work in Manhattan, I'll admit that I have second thoughts about those lines and about my childhood inclination to never have plastic surgery on my face. I always felt that I'd wear my face as a simple badge of honor, as any man would, proudly. Well, the trend is heading in the other direction. Many people of both sexes are altering their appearance to appear younger and more vital -- no doubt to continue to pump themselves up to make themselves feel more vital, too. I'm still so skeptical. Working out & eating well are gimmes. They've always make good sense, and they always will. Finding good health-care professionals -- of course that's a no-brainer, too. But what do you let those folks do to you? Do you let your dentist start pointing purple lights at your teeth? Would you have someone inject botulinum toxin into your system & risk looking like a Stepford wife? Are you happier thinking about the possibility of buying infomercial makeup for your legs in your 60s than you would be letting some cosmetic surgeon have a go at them when you're in your 30s? Is it all vanity, or is it a business expense, like dry-cleaning? Myself, I'm still working on learning how to worry less, even in these troubling times -- as a means of minimizing a worry line. Simplistic? Yes. But it's the start of a plan. More extreme cosmetic measures may be a fallback. In the meantime, I also trust in the power of my Clinique three-step system. I've been told it only works if I take it off my bathroom shelf and use it on my face, though.