It’s not all bad.
As things start to travel downhill, they pick up momentum.
Eyes that once read the London Underground map and the A-Z London Atlas with no difficulty began to deteriorate in my last decade of employment and my spectacles prescription changed every few years. Since retirement, I’ve needed new specs every time I have an eye test. For the last two eye tests, I realised I was in need of new specs before I had the reminder to book an appointment.
I’ve known I would suffer from arthritis for decades. My knee has given my gyp from time to time since my forties and my wrists and ankles tweak painfully until I can exercise them out of it. When visiting my husband in hospital after his second hip operation, my right hip hurt on my way from the car park. I put it down to sympathy pains.
Last December I started limping and I finally got confirmation x-rays that the hip is arthritic. Exercises have helped with the limping, but the arthritis isn’t going to go away…
I try to look on the bright side.
As a teenager I hated my combination skin, that would break out in spots and blackheads along its oily centre panel. As I got older, it dried out and even now, my skin is fairly good overall. (Shame about the wrinkles.)
Likewise, my once greasy hair now requires less washing, which in turn helps maintain whatever natural oils I still have.
In the sixties, when female curves were valued on the upper body (rather than on the lower rear, as today) mine were never curvaceous, even when breast-feeding my offspring. On the other hand, I was able to dispense with support under strappy tops in hot weather.
It was a source of regret to me as a young woman that I wasn’t thus well-endowed. Overweight; yes; voluptuous, no. Today, I am pleased that I have so little mammary flesh to sag. (Shame, though, about the arms and legs, especially since I lost weight.)
I no longer feel the need to use make-up on a daily basis, since nothing is going to effect much improvement to what’s underneath it. It is beyond rescue. In fact, make-up clogging the wrinkles can only emphasise them.
I can now rub my eyes if they itch, without trying to avoid mascara smears, and I spend less time at the bathroom mirror in the mornings. (Instead, I am on the bathroom floor, stretching and loosening hip, thigh and back muscles, ready for the morning dog walk and the day ahead.)
Looking on the bright side, I am still here, roughly a decade after both my gran and my dad died and heading for the age when my mum lost her mobility. When we took on our last dog as a puppy, I had to decide how long I planned to be around to outlive them and active enough to walk them.
So, I’m all set for the next twenty years at least. 🙂
(The best-laid plans…)
Always look on the bright side…
Did you have youthful hang-ups that no longer plague you?
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