"One of my biggest regrets -- bigger even than not buying the apartment on East Seventy-fifth street [for a song], bigger even than my worst romantic catastrophe -- is that I didn't spend my youth staring lovingly at my neck. It never crossed my mind to be grateful for it. It never crossed my mind that I would be nostalgic for a part of my body that I took completely for granted." - Nora Ephron, "I Feel Bad About My Neck"

I have one word to say to the brilliant Ms. Ephron -- she of "When Harry Met Sally" fame and countless other credits to her name: DITTO.

In this very column, I've made no bones about feeling bad about my own neck. How I really, really would like it to freeze as is and not get any worse in the years to come.

It's so stupid really, it's just a neck after all. We all have them. They all age. Some faster than others. I have a friend who is nearly 10 years younger than I am, and for these illustrative purposes I'll call Goosey (mean, I know). Her neck has always been ringed and kind of saggy. And, while that should make me feel better about my own less-than-nubile one, it doesn't. It just makes me feel bad about hers. Alas and alack.

Here's the thing: I, like Nora and her famous friends, don't want to be relegated to turtlenecks and chokers and strategically tied scarves for the rest of my days. I like v-necks, dammit! I like tank tops. I like an occasional plunging neckline. I like my old (young) neck.

And yes, I realize this is an extremely vapid topic of conversation. I should keep these matters private or just torture my husband and closest friends with them. But what can I say? In addition to an increasingly flaccid neck, I have a big mouth.

So, in an effort to do something besides whine, I decided to become proactive and do some research. And, now, having read up on and sifted through countless product reviews, I've zeroed in on an apparently amazing item called ReVive Fermitif Neck Renewal Cream, $130, which was designed to give the neck and decolletage (aack, haven't even begun to freak out about that yet) a smooth, taut, firm appearance while protecting them from sun damage. And, it contains all sorts of special, bio-engineered ingredients and Nobel Prize-winning technologies, so fingers are majorly crossed that it's going to work.

Now, while it's certainly not affordable and I'm going to have to do some creative financial maneuvering to swing it, I figure that, if it works, my inner peace (shallow and vapid though it may be) will have been well worth it.

Does that sound like a grand rationalization? Would you pull out all the stops if it made you feel better about yourself? Or, would you just tell yourself to get a grip and soldier on?