I’m amazed that I’m approaching the big 65 and don’t feel it inside. Of course it’s when I look at the wrinkles and puckering of my skin as it sags to the ground, my graying hair, the Etch-a sketch of wrinkles on my face, and my hands – well that’s another story. How did my beautiful hands with the long fingers inherited from my father get so spotted, and where did all those veins come from? I never could grow my nails very long but what’s with the wrinkles in my nails!
My knees have never been the strongest so I feel the creaking when going up and down the stairs, at the gym I’m the one in the class that completely ignores the instructor when she pushes through god knows how many lunges. Lunges, ya right! The saggy boobs, the saggy knees, the old lady pot that never goes away no matter how many crunches or lost pounds, I could go on and on. However despite the recent “this is what 60 looks like Christie Brinkley photo” (snort – that’s what 60 looks like if you’re Christie Brinkley!) everyone grows old and you can either embrace it or mourn over it.
Okay – I’m sorry but I don’t believe Christie Brinkley really looks that good at 60. I bet if I met her in the grocery store at 7am doing an emergency bagel run she’d look like any other 60 year old in sweat pants, a hoodie, and no makeup. Okay so maybe she has a plastic surgeon on call, a personal trainer on direct dial, and her nutritionist is named Olga and is the size of a brick outhouse – “get your hands off the bagel Fraulein, here is your wheat grass smoothie”, but without all that her boobs would sag too.
As my 65th birthday approaches in two weeks I can only feel immensely happy and fortunate. In many ways it’s like a new beginning, a new chapter to be written. I have choices and feel tremendously grateful for that.
I think your self emerges more clearly over time. Meryl Streep