I don't feel bad about my age. I don't really have body image hang ups. And both my step-mother and mother crossed the 40 year mark with no big fuss, so I've never seen it as a scary age.
My mother's bathtub is an old claw foot (painted gold). Along one bathroom wall there's a ridge with paintings propped on it, and for some reason there's a mirror propped up that faces right into the tub, between the two edges of the shower curtain. So you get in the shower and -- woo! There you are! In all your glorious nudosity.
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| "Fat Cat Capsizing" - the view from the toilet |
It was disconcerting at first. But I believe you shouldn't look away from yourself in mirrors, and you also shouldn't trash talk yourself when looking. Y'know... look bravely and say nice things.
I gained weight again in the last 6 months (I now weight 225 lbs, I'm 5'10'') so I have a poochy belly now and stretch marks on my hips. But every time I shower I Look Bravely and Say Nice Things.
I tell it it has lovely curves and when I need it to work hard, it does a damn fine job. My arms might jiggle, but they can still spend four hours pushing a mower, wielding a rake, and hacking at the Weeds of Doom.*
I have big thighs now, but every day they carry me around the nabe so the Brat Pack can check their pee-mail and yell at the neighbors.
My hands are starting to paper up in fine lines and age spots, but every day this month they cranked out 2000 words, and day before yesterday they did 8000.
Happy Birthday body! You're gettin' older, but you've still got it where it counts.
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* Today I discovered the blackberry weed's mother ship! It was a gruesome battle. The head-high thistles were easier, I just mowed those suckers down.
