I was having a conversation with a friend the other day when the subject of the state of our bodies came up.
Having known each other since shortly after high school, we had a lot of ground to cover, and much of it was freckled.
My friend confides that the picture of her in a bikini in her early 20s and doing the dishes maintains all the lithe detail you’d ever want in photographic proof of hotness and remains a source of pride and inspiration.
Plus it’s evidence that she has, indeed, done the dishes at least once.
Me, I am pleased to report that my ankles continue to be identifiable as separate from my calves and that I can still fit into the earrings I wore in high school.
And that concludes the uplifting news.
The truth is that it appears that the very things we noticed in older women, as younger women, have reared up to bite us on our unthinking and uncharitable asses.
Me? No, I’ve never been thoughtlessly cruel. Unless you count my teen-aged snickering of a rather mountainous woman on a beach in Florida. My sister and I sat on our smug little beach towels and spoke in nasty asides of balloons stuffed with grapes, of large and quaking puddings. I am confident that the woman in question didn’t hear us, asleep and with headphones on as she was; but decades later, as I contemplate the state of my thighs, I can only be glad that we didn’t mock a bald woman.
What were we thinking? Or was it a matter of not thinking? For surely no one ever got toward the head of the age line and said, “I’d like to develop jowls, please. Ooh, and if I could get the weird tiny veins at the back of my knees that would be lovely as well.”
The summer season, in all its flesh-baring and short-lived ways, is a reminder, isn’t it?
Wear that bikini while you can. Winter is coming.
Having known each other since shortly after high school, we had a lot of ground to cover, and much of it was freckled.
My friend confides that the picture of her in a bikini in her early 20s and doing the dishes maintains all the lithe detail you’d ever want in photographic proof of hotness and remains a source of pride and inspiration.
Plus it’s evidence that she has, indeed, done the dishes at least once.
Me, I am pleased to report that my ankles continue to be identifiable as separate from my calves and that I can still fit into the earrings I wore in high school.
And that concludes the uplifting news.
The truth is that it appears that the very things we noticed in older women, as younger women, have reared up to bite us on our unthinking and uncharitable asses.
Me? No, I’ve never been thoughtlessly cruel. Unless you count my teen-aged snickering of a rather mountainous woman on a beach in Florida. My sister and I sat on our smug little beach towels and spoke in nasty asides of balloons stuffed with grapes, of large and quaking puddings. I am confident that the woman in question didn’t hear us, asleep and with headphones on as she was; but decades later, as I contemplate the state of my thighs, I can only be glad that we didn’t mock a bald woman.
What were we thinking? Or was it a matter of not thinking? For surely no one ever got toward the head of the age line and said, “I’d like to develop jowls, please. Ooh, and if I could get the weird tiny veins at the back of my knees that would be lovely as well.”
The summer season, in all its flesh-baring and short-lived ways, is a reminder, isn’t it?
Wear that bikini while you can. Winter is coming.
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23 comments:
"Oh yes, that all sounds delightful. and maybe if you could make the lines between nose and mouth a smidgen deeper, and the shadows under my eyes a deeper shade of purple? And I will take a side of hair in unusual places, as well. could you heat it the whole. package and then drench it in night sweats? Ahhh. perfect.". Loved this, Pearl.
Yes...you go along just fine for years thinking "this is great, I'm not aging" an then one morning you get up, look in the mirror and say, "who the H is that?" Wondeful.
I wake up and still see an 18 year old stud...denial, maybe, but it is good to be a man...Hell when I was 18 I was never a stud!
Time does take a toll on us all--something we don't realize when we haven't yet accumulated very much time of our own yet. :)
You always make me smile, Pearl.
I'm 79 & this was not amusing. True--but not amusing!!
I think in our youth it we just don't think... you made me laugh about the not mocking someone bald... my sisters and I used to mock our step mother and rather large butt... we wall ended up with a large butt... hahaha... it was a trait from our own mother as come to find out :)
Nothing quite like seeing my grandmother in my bathroom mirror for the first time.
My bikini days are over and it's a cold winter comin' on.
Perfect post Pearl!
"still fit into the earrings I wore in high school" - that's outrageous!
I'm thinking a bikini wearing dishwasher with the right build and - oh nevermind.
Dude, everything's bigger than it was in high school, it's a sad fact. Except egos, egos are invariably smaller. You might not fit into those tiny-ass Levi's you wore when you were 17 but man, your dignity(i.e. MY dignity) fits into a gnat's ass.
Also, just to forewarn you, Quaking Pudding is going to be my new blog. You might THINK I'm joking but I need a change and well. I'm stealing it. Kisses! :)
And, as we lurch towards literal summer, my metaphorical winter is here. Brilliant post. As usual.
PearlyGirl! Dammit woman, I've seen recent pictures. The blonde-and-fluffy one with the jeans, choker and red handbag at the bus stop. Huh? HUH? And I can tell you I still think you're a total hottie. You can bet your bingo wings on it, baby. Roth x
Soft lighting is the key, Pearl. I only go out after dusk now and never eat in family restaurants.
I'd always suspected the reason my boys all have huge ears is because I was so generous with the teacup handle jokes when my nephew John was the only grandchild.
It's a lucky thing I didn't make fun of his tail.
Yes, and by "winter is coming" we are not thinking weather or climate.
It's quite a deal, isn't it - youth in return for wisdom. Who ever thought THAT was a good idea?
The best reason ever for living in COLD country.
Don't worry. Most guys go trough the same turmoil. I'm always on the elusive search for the fountain of youth, and have found that exercise is the best medicine. I've always been a runner, and I think that's helped me maintain my appearance. Heck, I still get carded at the store when buying wine and beer, and that makes me feel great...
...that is until I recently saw their sign saying that they card everyone under 65. Ah well, that dashes that dream.
I'm not fat, I'm fluffy!
Bikini?? Bite your tongue woman! I ditched that thing 35 years ago and am currently searching for a neck to ankle swimsuit, to cover up all those interesting little (and not so little) veins.
Ah, Winter...when you can tuck the flab into Track Pants and tell everyone it's way too cold to be wearing anything else.. Right here, right now in Southern Australia it's hot and getting hotter (wish I was) Ive worn nothing but shorts and T-shirts for several weeks now with several months left to go.
The nice thing about aging (for me) is that I no longer care what other people think. And that has freed up hours of time - makeup and curling irons have gone out the window, as well as high heels (except for special occasions).
You know the worst bit about aging? It's that when we were young and perfect in our bikinis, photography was crap. WHY couldn't digital cameras have been out when my hair was shiny and legs un-dimpled? Why couldn't the technology then "move on" to 110 cameras that focused no better than a pin hole camera made from a cereal box now when we could use a little less detailed imaging?
Bring on winter please.
I was only discussing this with a friend last night, as we compared weight gains from giving up our youthful vices.
I told her that we still could bikini up and wash the car. Sure, would possibly have different reactions to that offered in our youths, but we could totally claim it as the new rats-tail.
"We could start a movement" I told her. We totally could. Once we start jiggling, it just doesn't stop!
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