In 22 days I will be 43 years old.
I’m not sure how that happened. I remember listening to Prince’s 1999 in 1983 and realizing, with amazement, that I would be 28 in 1999. Wondering what my life would look like. Who I would become.
The simple answer is I’m still me. I have mellowed. My edges have softened. At my core I am still the same.
I am lucky to come from stock that maintains their youthful appearance. I am blessed to have lived without major illness. I have carried this body with me from the beginning. It is mine. I have not always been loving to it. In fact I have at times been quite cruel. I have been loved in this body. This body has made life….twice. It has nourished those lives. It has carried limp sleeping sweetness to their beds. It has comforted the sad. The hurt. It has been embraced.
I have ridiculed my body like all women do. I have been hyper-focused on the not toned enough bits. The longer than they once were bits. I know I do not look the same as I did in 1983. I do not deny my vanity. I color my now very grey hair as I have since I was 13. I now must wipe the eyeliner from my upper lid after applying to my eyelash line as they sag so that they pick up residue like silly putty from the news paper. My joints ache. My hands swell. I can’t turn my head to the right. I can’t beat boys in a foot race anymore.
But I have stories to tell. My body having been there for them all. My mind has seasoned with age and my body is its twin. I won’t be getting nips and tucks and fills. I don’t begrudge you if you do. I am just choosing to honor my body for sticking it out with me all these years. I will do that by feeding it well, keeping it fit, laughing often, and allowing it to be.