...little flashes of my 30s showing up at my door...knocking, and I wish I didn't have to invite them in. For my entire 20s--a full lifetime--I never watched what I ate, and considered myself genetically blessed to have somehow dodged the onset of cellulite-tis, love handle syndrome (well, for the most part), and all the pudge-ility that seems to present itself in all the wrong places in the late-20s.
Then...
...yesterday, I was trying on a sundress in a boutique fitting room, and I saw them. The early signs of them, but still THEM...sitting there, smiling, waving, letting me know that they were here, planning on staying, and also had invited friends. PUCKERS!! Skin puckers...those bits of fat that plant themselves on the upper back part of the thighs. I don't even have hips...how on earth can I have puckers?? Not me...genetically-blessed-and-happy-with-my-small-uneven-tits ME??! Not me, scarfing-down-burgers-and-fries-for-lunch-and-a-steak-with-potatoes-for-dinner-followed-by pancakes-with-full-fat-butter-and-full-sugar-syrup-for-brunch ME?!?!
:-(
fuck it...i'm going to the gym RIGHT NOW!
Monday, June 9, 2008
it seems to have happened overnight...
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4 comments:
lol...girl i am with you! One day i woke up and it was like bam! estelle getty mode. Wack.
Getting older is a surreal experience. Before long i'll be having roundtable discussions about the virtues of maalox vs mylanta. I just know it.
But, and i quote: "...embrace the confidence that age provides. There's nothing sexy than a confident, slightly "older" woman who shines with both youth and experience."
wise words from a wise woman ;-)
...and now if you excuse me i must go check myself for puckers.
Wait until you find gray hair on your head, beard and pubes..well maybe not the beard, but you get it
ha! Lex...who on earth made such a lofty statement?? lol. No, you're right...but I feel a bit better about my puckers after doing 3 sets of squats and lunges.
Rashad...no beard here...at least, not yet :-(
Sometimes I think being fat in high school was a blessing in disguise. Okay, maybe that's too enthusiastic. . . but it made me appreciative in my twenties for my size 8 figure. I am joyful when I look at myself in the mirror at ballet and I see elegant arms and sculpted calves. Sure, there are some parts of my body that still need work (as she looks down at her gut which sticks out ever so delicately). . . but for the most part, I'm happy. And it feels good to finally be that way. . .
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