I admit that I’ve never really been someone enamored of the dog days of summer. I don’t enjoy the beach or swimming and am not a sun worshiper. Instead I always associated summer with vacation from school in that lazy, hazy, crazy way. More importantly as I became a young adult I looked forward to the “summer romance.” It seemed nothing was better than meeting some guy and spending time on long walks, or dining alfresco and reveling in each others youth & beauty. Now that I am 50 it’s all become a sad, painful, faint memory. Summer has become the bane of my existence. To be honest there was some pressure knowing that I wouldn’t be able to eat and hide behind layers of clothing, but now that I’m older the idea of shedding those layers has me petrified. When I look into the mirror I see all those things that I hate about getting older. The skin and hair have lost some of their luster and the body…oh the body. Menopause has wrecked havoc.
It’s so funny when you’re younger you can find all sorts of stupid flaws that in retrospect weren’t really flaws at all. I used to complain about needing to lose weight. The only time I had gained weight was my freshman year of college and that’s what late runs to Micky D’s will get ya! However I discovered bulimia and lost the weight. Eventually after some therapy I lost the bulimia to o. Fortunately the weight didn’t return and I was blessed with a great metabolism which allowed me to cram all sorts of unhealthy things into my mouth, while maintaining a teeny waistline which I was happy to show off every chance I got. Now I look at a cookie and my dress size goes up. It’s so depressing!
Maybe even worse is that I am bombarded with all these images of young nubile women scampering around the city in barely there outfits, reminding me of what I used to be and probably will never be again. Oh the cruel passage of time. No minis, shorts, belly baring or tank to ps with my bounties overflowing. The thing that keeps freaking me out is that while I cut back to more age appropriate garb a few years ago, I still managed to wear “hot” outfits that looked good. The other day I tried to put on a pair of pants that fit perfectly three years ago. I was able to get in them once I inhaled and sucked in my sto mach. Talk about waiting to exhale!
So again I try to navigate through this new unknown world and in the meantime one can only hope for sweater weather.
