In my mind's mirror, I am 37 years old, with long blonde hair, tight muscles, a flat stomach, and all the energy in the world.
When I'm dancing my ass off, reality gives me a clearer picture.
The pain in my shoulder girdle: Is it the return of bursitis? The beginning of arthritis? Damaged muscles? Incipient cancer? This belly, which used to be concave and taut, now protrudes softly, and I haven't the muscles to hold it in. My torso feel heavy, my breasts saggy, and they never won't be again.
This is the natural progression. However much I may mourn the loss of my youthful beauty, I will not be ashamed of my aging beauty. I will not have surgery, not breasts, not double chin, not for any of it. This is what aging is, a natural process. Gravity and time cannot be stopped. To fight the process is madness and I won't spend the rest of my life fighting.
I'm sorry about the collapse of my breasts because Sweet Hubby likes him some boobies, and so do I. But my saggy breasts are still sensitive to SH's touch and soft in his hands. He and I are growing old together. I am so fortunate, so grateful to be married to someone who loves me for who I am rather than for how I look. I don't know how I would get through this without him and my siblings, who are likewise dealing with their aging, and who know me and love me no matter what.
Time is finite and the river only goes in one direction, so I believe there is nothing as important as enjoying the time, unless it is to help others enjoy theirs.
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