If you missed reading TIME GOES BY last Friday, I suggest you wonder on over there and check out the video--and I don't mean the one of the kitten. Ronni followed up with a post today--about derrieres. It is worth wandering on over again because she includes another picture.
It got me thinking, in the way reading blogs so often does. No, I wasn't thinking about the fact that I have grown up to be a dirty old woman. I was thinking about what a true adventure this stage of life has turned out to be. Seriously, it takes a tremendous amount of courage these days to blunder into the bathroom each morning and get that first bleary eyed look in the mirror.
Oh, I coasted for a long time on having poor eyesight. Do all my bathroom things without putting on my glasses and it is easy to go on believing that I actually look like I think I look. Sadly, though, at some point reality has to take hold. It catches me off guard and I have to quote Dorothy Parker to myself..."What fresh hell is this?"
It's true. The round tush and the flat tummy? Well they have gotten all tossed around and somehow have managed to switch places. The blond hair with the sun kissed streaks...a memory, gone to grey now--entirely without my permission. Feel bad about my neck? Oh, yes, indeed. And why, oh, why did I frown so much in my youth? Wrinkles etched all across my forehead make me look a whole lot less happy than I actually am. What was I frowning about anyway? A bed wasn't made? Some one left a dirty glass in the TV room? Wisdom was eluding me?
I slap on my moisturizing/sun blocking lotion and cannot avoid the fact that my legs and arms are not nearly as toned as I want to think they are. I have to draw in and coat eye brows and lashes where I want some hair and then pluck away on the places I don't. I spent more money on special cream for lips and eye lids in the past year than I ever spent in total on make-up any previous year.
I take a good hard look in my closet and wonder why there are still articles of clothing in there that are sleeveless. I tell myself that I am saving these things to wear under jackets or sweaters. Scarves are my friends now. It's not that I long to dress immodestly, or that I was ever known for my sense of style--It's just that I never thought I would look at an ad for a free workshop on 25 ways to wear a scarf and think, "Yeah, maybe I'll sign up for that."
And then there is the health angle. Slap on a the home blood pressure cuff and/or take a daily dose of atenenol. How can I not be reminded on a daily basis that good health is not a guarantee and life is indeed fleeting.
These are hard truths. And yet these things, apart from dwelling on them here, take up mere moments of any given day. Once I have that coffee (that has dulled my teeth over the years), I am out the door and on my walk. I hear birds singing and smell fresh air and my legs and arms are in motion, taking me where I want to go. My mind is free and I am planning my day or my week and life is good.
Last fall, my grand daughter commented, "You're old." When I looked at her, she continued, "You are old because you are a grandma. But you are a pretty young old because you still pick me up." I choose to take that as a compliment.