It was never gonna happen to me. It just wasn't.
I was going to fight the aging thing, with grace and effortlessly. Heck. There wasn't even gonna *be* a fight.
I was not going to thicken in the middle, fan myself in public, wear bifocals, develop a double chin, talk about my age spots.
I would stay trim, avoid hot flashes (somehow? I am unclear about how I thought I was going to pull that off), eagle-eyed, sharply profiled, with clear skin.
Um yeah. About that.
I have (proudly) purchased by first jeans from Lane Bryant (size 1 yellow--for us girls that are straight up and down, butt, hips and waist), been professionally fitted in a bra that is significantly larger in the alphabet than I had been wearing since my teens and started an informal Weight Watchers program for myself. I have resurrected the 1980's Denise Austin "Trim and Tone" VHS tape (complete with mullets).
I have lost 3 pounds.
PS One thing I can say about being ::ahem:: my age, is that it is far easier to grow to love the body you have, imperfections and all. Wisdom, apparently, comes wtih aging. I love that.