Allow me to apologize in advance to anyone (males) who may find this article confusing, bewildering, and perhaps a bit scary.

And with the apology comes a warning: the article may unveil some mysteries, shed light on questions, or cause some people (men) to examine women’s faces for an unnaturally lengthy period of time in an attempt to see what I am writing about. So brace yourselves.

As most of you may know, our son Donnie is getting married in October of this year. My previous column dealt with the mother of the groom gown shopping. (Note: I have not ventured out to do this yet.)

I have, however, started to evaluate my face in preparation for the wedding, just to see what changes/improvements need to be implemented. And implemented fast. So, I began with my eyes. It took me a few seconds to actually locate my eyelids, buried as they are in folds of flesh that have moved southward from the browbone.

Now, I could have sworn that I used to have eyelids. I remember wearing eyeshadow and being able to see what color it was. Nowadays, I could use a trowel to spread eyeshadow on my lids and you wouldn’t even be able to see it, unless I closed my eyes. Troubling.

I have dark circles like a raccoon. I mean, deep, dark circles. I have tried every cover-up on the market to mask them. All they do is make me look like a woman with dark circles and dried beige spackle under my eyes.

There are anti-dark-circle serums and anti-aging creams and eye brighteners that promise results. Take it from me—they don’t work. The only thing that will get rid of the dark circles is to have plastic surgery. There are two schools of thought on that topic: 1) I can’t afford it, and 2) HELL, no.

And my eyebrows? Years ago, I over-plucked them. And kept over-plucking them, with visions of Andy Rooney’s eyebrows (Google him—you’ll see) always in the back of my mind.

Now they are pencil-thin. I firmly believe that they are mad at me for the years of plucking. So now they are being vindictive. They refuse to grow where I want them to grow.

All I get are these random long hairs sticking out as if my eyebrows are shooting me the bird. There are several techniques available to assist in obtaining perfect brows. One is the tried-and-true eyebrow pencil. Easy, right? No. No, it’s NOT easy.

No matter what I do or what product I use or how I do it, I end up with brows that look like a 5-year-old drew them on. In crayon.

Now on a normal day I’m fairly happy with my face. I don’t think much about it other than the usual grooming and makeup routine. So I’m not egotistical or narcissistic. But this is an important day. This is my child’s wedding. I don’t want to look like the Joker as portrayed by the late Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight Batman movie.

And to make things worse, my husband George is good-looking. He’s very fit, has great eyes (no dark circles), blonde hair that is graying oh so slightly at the temples, and he looks fabulous in a tux. My worst fear is that people, seeing me standing next to him in the wedding pictures, will say to George, “Oh, how nice your mother looks!”

The saving grace for me may be the fact that Michelle (the bride), Pat (her mom), me and the bridesmaids are getting our makeup done professionally on the day of the wedding.

I have never had my makeup done professionally before, so I am looking forward to this experience. I have requested a “dress rehearsal” kind of dry run with the makeup artist, before the wedding day. This way the makeup woman will be better prepared, and she will be able to obtain the materials that are required to make me look decent.

Unless, maybe I can convince Donnie and Michelle to do a theme wedding. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll suggest a masquerade wedding, where everyone wears masks; those half-masks that hide the undereye area. Perfect!

Problems solved.