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Thursday, February 2, 2012

Mourning Our Youth

I'm Cracking Up!


I read an interesting article recently that I found in the February issue of More Magazine  The author, Emily Listfield,  talked about going through a period of mourning for your lost  youth. Listfield sites the book, Face It: What Women Really Feel As Their Looks Change, by Vivian Diller, PhD.  Diller's take on letting go of wanting to look young, was you wouldn’t be able to move on and love the person you are now if you are still clinging to your youth.  She may have something there.

When I look at my journey for the last several years, I can see my “youth” slipping away from me as if I am sliding down a snowy slope in slow motion.  Slip by slip the menopause weight piles on--subtle at first, then suddenly you cannot fit into any of your clothes.  On the positive side, I really like having breasts, finally.  But, why do they seem to slip into my armpits and show themselves on my back, really?

The skin is next; it seemed to go renegade on me, starting with lines and creases, then age spots and other interesting growths.  Plus, I get pre-cancerous and cancerous lesions.  My dermatologist and I keep a close watch on my skin.

And don't get me started on the spider veins, and other exciting blue veins!  I actually had the salt water injections in my legs twice, as I was turning 50.  This unfortunately did nothing.

Also, I'm not bringing up the aches and pains from numerous areas of my body.  I just try to keep it moving!

So how do we get used to the “self” that keeps changing?  I guess since it doesn’t happen quickly we adjust by degrees. I'm not sure that we ever really get over how we once looked in our prime.  Here's hoping that we have lots of time to figure it out!

Ciao Babies!

Joan

Here's a poem from my first book,  Water Running Downhill!

EIGHT IN DOG YEARS-- (AKA FIFTY!)

 

Here I am

Stuck
In the middle
Of me

Trying to redefine
My identity
At the precipice of
Midlife, i.e.
Menopause

There
I've said it
The “M” word
(Sounding the death knell
Of youthfulness, as we know it!)

Enter the curse of middle age
See . . .
Skin sag, lines deepen
Into the antithesis
Of “perky”

Zombies, recite the litany:
“I’m not getting older
I’m getting better”
The Golden Years
(Such rubbish)

Forget that tired rhetoric
News flash!  We are supposed to age
We are not Barbie dolls
We are people
Let’s not fear our natural metamorphosis
May we embrace who we are and
Who we are becoming, with fortitude
We are powerful; we are WOMEN!

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