I followed a very beautiful 20-something woman in to work today. Long shiny black hair, flawless skin, and all swaying curves. Oblivious to her own power. Or maybe not. And I caught myself for just a moment wishing I could have that again - even for a moment. Not that I want to be that girl (I will keep the baggage I know, thank you very much). Not that I would trade my 48 year old life experience for ANYTHING. But to be able to inhabit my 22 year old body for just a moment. To savor its firmness, it's genuine unwrinkled state. To marvel at the long and shapely legs, the firm breasts and and the sweet derriere. To dance naked and unselfconsciously one more time before I check out. To appreciate fully what I took for granted then. My 48 year old self knows what's coming. Knows what's gonna happen to that body over the next 24 years. It will take its toll from which there is no going back.
Alas, there is no going back anyway. Instead, today I am determined to find a way to love my 48 year old body as much as I imagine that I would that 22 year old one. Actually more, since I didn't really love it all that much then either. This body with all its scars and wrinkles and flaws. I imagine that when I am 70, I will look back and think how little I appreciated the body I have now. Which is just funny to me. This body is my home. It is all I have. I shall love it more.
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