Saturday, March 05, 2011


There was a time I would have been jealous.  As it is now, I tossed the magazine in my husband's lap.  "Have fun," I said.  He smiled.  The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition had arrived.

What sport they claim to illustrate we'll leave for someone else's blog.  I never had hope to look like one who could drape myself across its pages.  But there was a time that I was toned, that I felt strong and looked good.  I think I was fourteen.

Up until my fiftieth birthday, there was the niggling thought that if I only carved out a bit of time, I could once again have a flat tummy, arms without wings, legs that are toned.  And then, I overhear friends chatting about how they hurt themselves sleeping and I join in with the time....until I realize, "Damn, I'm fifty".  I'm not ever going to get back to my fourteen year old self.  I'm not ever going to turn heads again.

It can be quite freeing.  I need not be jealous, for those creatures are so far removed from my reality, that we are a different species.  Much as I might admire a beautiful horse, I have no hope of ever being one, nor would I want to.

Still, I look forward, adjusting my parameters.  

Photo:  at the Wonderlab, mirrors mix views of my face with William's.

1 comment:

That Janie Girl said...

I'm in my fifties...and still I think,
"Someday, maybe, I'll have abs of steel."

And then, I come back to reality.


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