My friend Susie started a group on facebook for her friends who are turning 50 years old. She posted a photo of her face taken first thing in the morning and listed all the things she is dissatisfied with, and my honest reaction was, “Wow. She looks great for our age.” Susie and I both have 20-something daughters, so neither of us needs to dig out our yearbooks to remember how much younger we used to look. Everyday I can look across the breakfast table at Sarah’s beautiful face and sigh, if I choose.
I am actually not unhappy with how I am aging. Sure my hair has pretty much gone grey but it is an interesting color and I am saving so much money in salon fees by letting go of the “color”. My skin is wrinkled mainly from smiling, so I am happy to make the trade.
What I do feel crabby about is my aching joints. I just got back from Zumba and to quote Shakira, “The hips don’t lie.” They are old and screaming at me. My frozen right shoulder is visible lower than my left in my shadow as I walk to my car after class. I don’t dare jump around like I did even a few years ago as my knees are tricky.
I am trying to follow the advice I gave to my friend Connie who just ran up and down the hills of San Francisco for a half marathon: celebrate what you are doing and do not compare yourself to the accomplishments of others (especially those half your age).
So here is my cheer for myself: I just Zumba’d for 55 minutes on a 100 degree plus day! Yeah!