It’s no skin off my nose – just a little face powder – to follow airport security measures. Whatever it takes to speed me through the turnstiles, so be it: without shoes, without belt, without eyebrow tweezers or fingernail clippers.

Little do I care if my nose is shiny, my lips aren’t glossed and my hand cream is not accessible. The few cosmetics normally stashed in the bottom of my purse will be checked with my luggage, packed in zip-lock plastic bags like last night’s leftover peas.

No hassle from this traveler. So what if the shampoo oozes out onto my slacks or rose-colored sprinkles of blush stick to my shirts?

So my lipstick melts, and I don’t carry along a favorite perfume for fear the bottle will explode under pressure? At least the deodorant should stay snug, stuffed under the tongue of a tennis shoe.

This trip I’ll merely forgo styling gels and the half-empty aerosol can of mousse that usually accompanies me, and sunscreen, and mouthwash.

And although I’m heading south, where the women wear makeup thicker than their accents, I’m packing smart. No creams and lotions, no rosemary mint body wash, no hair conditioner, fingernail polish or eyelash curlers. Certainly, no tubes of teeth whitener or mascara. Or bras with wire uplifts.

I’m not even taking a ballpoint pen with which to work on crossword puzzles.

Not too many years ago, I carried ripe tomatoes and a Boston fern on the plane. I toted jars of crabapple jelly, Christmas wreaths and live lobsters through airports. Anything you could cram into the overhead compartment, or shove on the floor near your feet, was permissible. Nowadays, you better not have a penny wedged in your loafers.

Recently, I watched as an irritated passenger was detained in the airport security area because his key ring included a miniature jackknife. The man finally was allowed to board, sans key ring.

Nothing like that will happen to this infrequent flier. Just call me Cooperative Customer. I’ll dump my purse, I’ll empty my bags, I’ll surrender my Lancome concealer and my toothpaste. I’ll be glad to swap seats with someone, go without coffee or take a bump for a later flight.

Just promise, airline folks, I’ll get from here to there – and back again – in one piece. Safely landed. Calmly deplaned. With that guarantee, you’ll hear me humming and singing: “Pack up my troubles in my old kit-bag and smile, smile, smile.”