And the Beast in question is unsightly aging. Not just aging –people like Susan Sarandon and Sigourney Weaver who age beautifully look great, and I react with envy. But I am aging, well, icky. In an unsightly manner. I have never agreed with those crackpots who embrace the Crone. I don’t want to get all haggaly-looking. I like being older because I am finally getting a teensy bit smarter. I would like to look as good as one of the two older women previously mentioned. I don’t like this goofy neck-thing I’ve got going on. I don’t like the saggy nose-to-mouth thing. And what’s with this overhanging upper eyelid and baggy under eyelid stuff? It’s so unsightly!
The picture that accompanies this blog? It’s four years old. (The infant is my granddaughter, Valerie). I have changed a bunch, and there is no way I will even have a picture taken, let alone display it for all. (My adult offspring continue to try to capture my image, however). I have an acquaintance who is 7 years younger, and she looks 17 years younger. Nay, even younger than that. Ungghh! She is just naturally that way. The unfairness of it all. She is teased about it, some are now calling her “Barbie.” But she’s waaay too cute for even that, and more personality, too!
So, am I vain? You betcha! Too vain? Maybe. I’m just used to looking different. I’m used to not looking like I’m getting closer to 60 every year, every day. I don’t think anyone else in the family is as vain, not even my mother, who is 93 and isn’t used to not being amazingly, youthfully beautiful. (She’s wrong about that – she is beautiful). I guess I have at least a couple of different choices here. I guess I can continue to avoid looking in the mirror much – I am always so shocked! I can continue to wish for what isn’t, and be unhappy, maybe even miserable about this process. Or, maybe I can learn to just love everything about me, including the beastly aging. Be grateful for my amazing health.
The picture that accompanies this blog? It’s four years old. (The infant is my granddaughter, Valerie). I have changed a bunch, and there is no way I will even have a picture taken, let alone display it for all. (My adult offspring continue to try to capture my image, however). I have an acquaintance who is 7 years younger, and she looks 17 years younger. Nay, even younger than that. Ungghh! She is just naturally that way. The unfairness of it all. She is teased about it, some are now calling her “Barbie.” But she’s waaay too cute for even that, and more personality, too!
So, am I vain? You betcha! Too vain? Maybe. I’m just used to looking different. I’m used to not looking like I’m getting closer to 60 every year, every day. I don’t think anyone else in the family is as vain, not even my mother, who is 93 and isn’t used to not being amazingly, youthfully beautiful. (She’s wrong about that – she is beautiful). I guess I have at least a couple of different choices here. I guess I can continue to avoid looking in the mirror much – I am always so shocked! I can continue to wish for what isn’t, and be unhappy, maybe even miserable about this process. Or, maybe I can learn to just love everything about me, including the beastly aging. Be grateful for my amazing health.
Man, this is going to be some process. I think I’ll try it.
Victoria Jane Mecham
I am vain, I am not likeing the aging process either. And Grammie wore falsies into the pool a few years ago, so no one would see her saggy boobs. And you are beautiful! I saw you not even 3 years ago, and remember thinking how much you still look like Sigourney Weaver to me.
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