UGH, I’M AGING

 

By Peggy Still –

It happened this week while standing in the bathroom of my office. At the sink with my hands lathered up with soap, a size 2, twenty-something whispered in my ear that the hem of my skirt was caught in the elastic of my panties. I graciously thanked her, yanked at my skirt and retreated to the nearest stall to gather enough confidence to show my face in public again.

I imagine she is thinking the same thing I did at her age, “I hope when I’m that age I don’t do something like that.” When did I arrive at that age?

I can recall when the wrinkles began to appear. I remember the first few gray hairs I pulled out of my head. The sight of small veins on my legs were perhaps the most difficult to accept. Or maybe it was the wings that appeared one day while waving good-bye to my grandchildren. No, I think it’s the stomach pooch that bothers me the most. One of the women in my office said today that she would like to have her ankles done to remove the varicose veins. That’s not the place I would start if I were to be so inclined to have work done.

Wrinkle cream is now a regular addition to my shopping list. If I attempted to pull out all of the gray hairs now I would be half bald. Those varicose veins are a lost cause. Lifting weights has slowed the growth of the wings. Thousands of crunches later, the tummy pooch remains resistant. I don’t even attempt to compare myself to air-brushed, spray-tanned mannequins in magazines, because they aren’t real.

My grandchildren don’t seem to mind my wings. My cat actually finds comfort on the softness of my belly. I often receive compliments on the silver in my hair. The wrinkles are a reminder of a life that has survived heartache and pain. The veins, well, they just have to be covered up by a longer skirt.