Saturday, November 20, 2010

Aging Gracefully


Not that I am aging gracefully, but I'm aging.  I might as well take it as gracefully as possible.  I turn 53 on Wednesday.  It's the new 33 with a hell of a lot more wisdom.  And weird skin things.





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At the age of 13........I hated my fair skin because all my friends would tan.

At the age of 35........I quit trying to tan.

At the age of 53........my fair skin is freckled with sun damage but the wrinkles are few because I didn't "worship" the sun. 







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At the age of 17.........I lathered on baby oil with iodine in failed attempts to tan.


At the age of 53.........I apologize for my neon skin that can be blinding in the sunlight. 

 




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At the age of 23........I hated my fat thighs.

At the age of 53........I know now that those weren't fat thighs.









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At the age of 26........I worried about my big hips and wished my stomach was flatter.

At the age of 27........I had my first c-section scar and stretch marks on those big hips, which were now bigger......but carried a perfect baby full term.

At the age of 53........I admire my 3 c-sections scars because they represent 3 of the happiest days in my life.  And the hips?  Now I'm just thankful when they don't hurt.







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At the age of 35.......I remember looking at my aging aunt's arms as I sat by her on a sofa.  I felt sorry for her and wondered how her skin got so loose and crepe-y looking.  At the time, she seemed very old.

At the age of 53.......I realize it happens when we're living life.  My aunt was only a few years older then than I am now.  And sometimes I see a little crepe-y look on my hands and legs...before I look away quickly.








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At the age of 45.......I watched an older friend putting on her make-up. As she pulled the eyeshadow brush across her eyelid, the skin of her eyelid stayed put on the other side.  I remember thinking how sad that must be.

At the age of 53.......My eyelid sticks to the other side as I pull the eyeshadow brush across my lid.  I pull it back and realize it's not as sad as other things.








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At the age of 20.......I still had breakouts on my face.  I remember thinking I was way too old to have pimples.

At the age of 53.......I still think I am too old to have pimples...but somehow now they make me feel like I must still be young enough.







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At the age of 24........my "fat weight number" was a number I would never go over.

At the age of 53........I would give anything to weigh 20 pounds more than that "fat number".....and I'm way over the 20 that's over the "fat number."










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At the age of 20.........a boy broke my heart and I have never felt so desperate and alone.

At the age of 53.........I would thank that boy if I could. I can still feel the pain sometimes, but I see how God worked it out.







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At the age of 24..........I had lots of first dates with boys that never called back.  What was wrong with me?

At the age of 53..........It was them.  They were wrong. 








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At the age of 15..........I was still waiting to develop what it took to fill a 32C.  I begged my mother for a padded bra.  She bought me one.  I wore it every day for 3 years.  Yes.  I.  Did.  You can't exactly wear it every other day.  Flat on Monday. Big on Tuesday. Flat on Wednesday.

At the age of 16..........I realized that padded bra ended up being birth control.  No way I was letting anybody enter what was inside that bra. What a dissappointment that would have been.

At the age of 27........I got to enjoy filling up a C cup through the wonder of pregnancy.  And again at the age of 30 and 32. 

At the age of 40.......Things deflated.

At the age of 53..........I am just thankful for a clear mammogram.  










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At the age of 21.........I was living in my own apartment and I told my mother I didn't have to answer to her anymore.

At the age of 53.........I'm on the receiving end of that now.  Ouch.  But I completely understand.  I was that independent girl once.
 





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At the age of 30........I was full of anxiety.  Every twinge was a tumor and I worried about every little thing.  Who would help Chuck raise the children when I died....and I felt certain I would die early.

At the age of 53.......I stay in the moment.  That worry was a huge waste of time.




We are here but a moment.
  Please don't waste it on worry.



 

11 comments:

  1. So very true my dear but I am a few years ahead of you & see even more evidence....however. I am here & that says alot these days. Love your end quote....sent it to my worrywart daughter. Probably won't change her much but worth the effort! Happy Thanksgiving!!

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  2. What a lovely post! Thanks and happy early birthday!!!

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  3. Great post! I remember 53...fondly. Yes, worrying is a waste of time...

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  4. I have never heard about the eyelid skin thing....is that really true???? I will say if I have a margarita at dinner I will wake up and my eyelids will be puffy....now that never happened in college.....

    have a wonderful birthday!!!

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  5. Here you go again. You MUST write a book. I am reading a funny book by Lisa Scottoline and keep thinking Julia can do this..This sounds just like Julia. I LOVE your blog and all of the above is great but the eye lid thing, OMG! Love you twin separated at birth. Wish I was as funny though.

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  6. So much wisdom behind this post! Sad to think that so much of our time was spent on body image instead of just living! I thank God everyday for another day, even if it is with my squishy belly, flabby arms and jiggly thighs! God is good and so is life! Thanks for a great post, Julia. So glad you are my friend.

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  7. I just love you! You are a wise woman. And thanks for that stuff about worrying. I needed that.

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  8. OMG, how very true this is! It makes me appreciate the journey of getting older. Have the happiest of happy birthdays! 53 IS the new 33!

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  9. I just love this! You are so right! Have the happiest of happy birthdays!

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  10. Interesting blog to read.. (considering I am the one and only child that inheritted the glowing pale skin, big hips, and big thighs..)

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  11. Watch out Anne LaMont!!!!! I swear. This is what women want and need~to hear~in a wise and nailed way. You should be syndicated; your own newspaper article...lots of money. You make my day and this is all so true. I still get pimples too...

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