Summer Raindrops

Torrential downpour-

pummels flora and foliage,

violent raindrops

My Changing Body

I totally get the the above title is likely sending shivers down many of your spines because it is causing flashbacks of really awkward health classes in middle school.  I had that class in 5th grade, 7th grade, 9th grade, 10th grade, 12th grade and my freshman year of college. Despite the fact that my private Christian schools emphasized denying sexual urges at all times unless you are married, they were really into making sure we knew the details of what we were supposedly avoiding.  The above title may not be causing flashbacks if you are from a generation were discussing sex was verboten.  In that case, it is probably causing discomfort because I am discussing a taboo subject.

Me, with very few signs of aging!

Either way, putting the word "body" in the same sentence as "changing" freaks people out.  However, I am not talking about that kind of change.  Nope, this is not a discussion of puberty.  It is a discussion about aging.  And, I swear that aging is some sort of weird, slow version of puberty.  What follows should probably be filed under "too much information," so read at your own risk!

Take, for instance, facial hair.  Young men reach a certain age and they begin to grow coarse hair on their chins, upper lip and cheeks.  My 18 year old brother was just showing me his new found stubble.  It is so sparse he plucks each hair out individually.  I have chin hair as well.  I am not a 18 year old boy.  I am a 39 year old woman.  And I have enough chin hair to warrant THE USE OF A RAZOR!  Oh my god!  Ack!  This started when I was about 36 years old.  It appears to be getting worse.  My upper lip doesn't look too impressive either.  I tried doing laser hair removal, but let me tell you, that doesn't work for a woman with strong Germanic roots.  Really strong Germanic roots, strong Germanic roots that will not yield to a lousy laser tool.  I was attempting to warn my pristine 25 year old sister, in her perfect youth, that this was coming, especially since she is a brunette like me.  Her reply, "Actually, my hair stylist says I am a level 6 blonde."  Whatever, her time is coming.

Me now, a little rough around the edges!

There is also breast development.  Or decline, rather.  Gravity is not my friend.  At one point in my life, not to brag, I had so-called "perfect breasts."  I recently discovered this on Pinterest, which is a fount of information about things I really didn't need to know.  I attempted to find this pin for your edification but was unable to locate it.  Trust me, it is there!  As if it weren't bad enough to be mourning my youthful silhouette, I also have to know that I was once perfect!  Anyhow, those days are gone.  I am now the not so impressed owner of "sloped breasts."  I can't blame gravity entirely.  I had a daughter and I nursed her for a year.  After my breast milk came in, I went from a 34B to a 40D.  Clarification, for those of you men reading this, likely unfamiliar with breast sizing: what that means is I went from small and perky, "About a handful," a boyfriend once helpfully described, to pretty damn big.  As my friend Liz so eloquently puts it "You got visited by the Titty Fairy."  Yes, and once the Titty Fairy leaves, I get sloped breasts.  I am vain enough that I contemplated breast surgery.  I didn't want to augment anything, just return myself to my former glory.  Totally not happening.  In addition to the fact that I am not vain enough to spend that kind of money, I found out that sometimes the plastic surgeon has to cut off the nipples and relocate them.  Good grief, no way! 

Around the time I had perfect breasts, I also had the perfect hip to waist ratio, .70.  Scientists, who are wildly interested in sex, sexual attraction and reproduction of all species, determined that men judge women to be more attractive when the measurement of their waist divided by the measurement of their hips equaled .70.  It is more commonly known as an "hour glass figure."  I had that, too.  (Lest you think I am an example of perfect beauty or more vain that I will actually admit, please know that I am short, have hairy arms, wear glasses, have unplucked eyebrows and used to have a dreadful overbite.)  Age has added padding and eliminated my .70 ratio.  I am not sure of the evolutionary value of this, especially since our human ancestors generally didn't make it past 40 or 50.  I am going with the idea that my body is preparing to be a grandmother and is adding cushion to make me better for hugs. 

 OK, my kid is only 6 1/2 but I figure if I had reproduced at a more typical time, she'd be in her late teens, so it makes more sense.  I also tell my husband that he is lucky to have more wife than he started out with.  His reply, which makes him totally a keeper, is always "You were too skinny when we first started dating anyhow!"  He, by the way, is getting fitter and more muscular as he ages.  That is because he exercises more than he used to.  Let's just say I am a work in progress on that!

I am starting to sport some grey hair too.  The light that shines through my bathroom window in the mornings as I get ready perfectly illuminates the grey strands.  Thankfully, it appears that my shade of grey hair is a lovely silver.  I think I can work with that.  Check back with me, though, I might change my mind when there is more than a few silver strands sprinkled around.  

My great-grandma, Anice Ida Leach.  I want to be like her when I grow up

I haven't yet encountered the more serious consequences of aging, just the cosmetic ones.  And, I haven't hit that "powerful, magical time of menopause."  Those of you in menopause, who just spit out your beverage on your computer screen or hand-held device upon reading that sentence, please know that is not my phrase.  It is a phrase in the recording I listen to when I am on hold with my doctor's office. I am not kidding!  From what I can tell from my friends going through menopause, the only thing powerful about it the hot flashes.  My attitude about aging may also change when I hit menopause, so we will have to do a recheck on that one too!

Despite the cosmetic features that are going awry, I appreciate getting older.  I like life more now than when I was younger.  I have much less angst and anxiety.  I have less anger and frustration.  I also appreciate what I have and am not constantly thinking "life will be good when..."  Life is good right now, even when aspects of it suck.  I feel more settled into my frame, even if it is a few sizes larger and more steady on my feet.  There is less tension in my shoulders. 

My great-grandma holding my mom in 1956

As far as I can tell, this is because inner beauty increases with age.  Time allows us to see that waiting in a long line, being stuck in traffic, dirty laundry and dirty floors are simply inconveniences.  It also allows us to see that we can weather the worst that life can dish out.  Those lessons create people who are warmer, are more likely to see the good all situations and are better at handling difficult situations. 

It seems like a fair trade, I lose my physical beauty and gain inner beauty.  I think I will take it.