Disclaimer: Remember, I’m over 40. Some of you may relate, and some of you may cringe. Either way, I hope you find some laughter….
When’s the last time you walked round naked in front of your husband? Did you ever? If you did and don’t now, when did you stop? Was it after you failed to lose all of the “baby” weight (or “age” weight, or non-work-out-weight? I guess any type will do…). Was it after you nursed 3 kids and found that your boobs were shrunken pendulums reaching half way to your navel? Was it after your second C-section when you saw that any ounce of extra fat around your belly now bulges over the scar (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, imagine a rubber band around your hips and how the fat would hang over the taut band. Well, the scar is like a damn rubber band!) Was it when you turned around to find that your ass now resembles cottage cheese? Or that the veins on your legs look like mean, red and blue worms? Or when you discovered that your knees (knees for chrissake!) are terribly wrinkled? Or, or, or………………….
Lord, when it comes to our bodies, a lot of us have a lot to bitch about. Having babies and aging is really, really hard on a body.
Aside: Not that we didn’t bitch about our physical flaws before the kids and the years but that was, well, kid’s stuff. (Oh to have that 25 year-old skin again.)
Now we’re into the serious shit. Our bodies are letting us down, embarrassing us, and many of us feel we must hide it.
Aside: Well, o.k., when I’m 70 it’ll be even more “serious” and I’m sure I’ll wish for my 42-year old t&a. Although God! I hope I’ve gotten over all of this by then.
I don’t want to gaze at my body, so it makes sense to assume that no one else would want to either. I mean, who wants to look at back fat? Or my C-section scar/blob (did I mention this already??!)?
Aside: hang on here…I know I’m being brutal and graphic (gross), but the….ahh….naked truth, can be that way.
Are you shaking your head yet? If you’re not, you should be, because this is crazy talk. Irrational thought brought on by a culture that vilifies anything not skinny and young. I could find out how much money is desperately thrown yearly at dieting and plastic surgery, but we’ve all heard the numbers. And we know it’s outrageous. And sad. And not natural.
I try to remember that what is happening to my body IS natural, and it’s o.k., and boy that is a tough pill to swallow. But I truly want to.