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| Category: Comedic Relief |
Date published: September 27, 2005 |
If it weren't for mirrors, my life would be good. What is it about a woman when she ages, why does her neck begin to look like that of a chicken...wrinkled. I hate turtlenecks, makes me look like my head is atop my shoulders, but that ain't all, there's the rest of me, the part that lies below my neck that causes me such dissatisfaction.
I'm breathing hard as I write this, just finished taking a walk, a walk around my yard, up and down the hills, through the trees, dodging cobwebs and running into others. If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times...excise can't be healthy. Don't know if spiders are nesting in my hair, I don't do mirrors anymore. Don't know when exactly it happened, what year, what day, or what hour...but I just don't look good naked anymore, thus, the reason for my walks.
Like I said, life is good, if it weren't for that one fact, or two...or three...
My walk was delayed this morning, my goal is to walk twice a day; three deer were grazing in my backyard. From what I can tell, there are two different families of deer, either that, or the doe has another buck on the side. They pig out each morning, eating the fruit from my pear tree. Now why can't I look like them? Their legs are long and lean, their buttocks firm, and their necks...sleek, not a wrinkle in sight. In other words, their bodies are in perfect shape. Perhaps, it's because they run a lot, and that's another point of complaint, running. I don't do it, would fall down from cardiac arrest if I did.
I'm sure that most of you have heard of Polaroid cameras. You can take any kind of pictures you want with one of those things... and still have them developed...like naked pictures. Now, in my day, you only did that sort of thing if you were married, and still young have a body to kill for, instead of one you'd like to kill. As for me...well, that was yesterday, and yesterday's gone...long gone, another lifetime ago. Today, I'd rather look into a pail of dead rats, fermenting, than to look at myself naked...much less to allow myself to be photographed in the buff. And yet, my mind remembers yesterday, recalls a time when I did.
I was watching one of those home shopping networks the other night. They were selling bras, fancy bras covered with lace, pretty and sexy. One of my sons noticed what I was watching and laughed. "You looking to buy a gift, Ma?" he asked. Now, why would he have asked that? Why? Because he knew, first of all, that it most likely didn't come in a size 48 double E... long, and secondly, that no kind hearted woman would ever want to ruin the look of such a pretty bra by placing it onto a shipwrecked body.
And so I walk...and I diet...but I fear. Yes, I fear, for you see; I'm not young anymore. The elasticity in my skin is no more, won't ever spring back...sort of like the elastic found in an old pair of pants. If I lose the weight, what will happen to the skin? I know the answer to that question; it will HANG there. I saw it on TV one night, saw it on an older woman who'd lost a lot of weight. It wasn't pretty, folks, it wasn't pretty. And my breasts...oh, mercy, what will happen to them?
I'm not breathing hard anymore...but instead...have grown depressed. What is it all for...the dieting, the exercise? Either way, I can't EVER, will NEVER, look good NAKED anymore...woe is me.
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In My Own Words: Out-of-the-Ordinary Experiences
