Fillers

“Fill ’er up,” I told the gas station attendant back in 1970. For three single dollar bills, I bought two hundred miles and a few hours of freedom. Maybe a foray from campus in western Connecticut to New York City and back. Maybe a weekend ski trip to Vermont. Maybe a good start on a spring break jaunt to Florida.

“Fill ’er up,” I told the bartender in 1990, handing him a 60-ounce empty pitcher. For $15, my friends and I could enjoy a few hours of Monday Night Football without breaking the bank. Or maybe a head start on drowning a heart full of sorrows. As singer/cowboy Jon Pardi might croon,

So fill ‘er up again, I need another round

Yeah, I’m cuttin’ loose ’cause I’m all wound up

And I, I wanna knock ’em down

“Fill ’em up,” I told the aesthetician who was attempting to erase the wrinkles on my aging face with injectable wrinkle fillers. She promised that for $550, a syringeful of hyaluronic acid-based dermal filler would plump up the lines around my lips. It would give me a more youthful look for a fraction of what a traditional facelift would cost. It might last a few months before a refill.  Beauty is fleeting.

So, eh…eh…eh … Let’s see. Um. Fill ups have increased in cost while the quantity and longevity have decreased. Mmm. A linguistic filler. At least talk is cheap.