Aging gracefully. I think it might mean not complaining about all the ignominious skin crinkling, bone creaking, and WTF moments when we look in the mirror. Okay, okay, I am complaining. Just a little.
While I’m in the full throes of whining, I might as well address the post menopausal phenomenon of shape shifting.
I’m not referring to the shape shifting we experience in early days of The Big M, when a woman turns into a werebeast or a fiery volcano goddess. I’m talking about LITERal shape shifting.
With this demonic twist on body sculpting, we goddesses don’t gain weight, but it all redistributes. Where? Depends on the day. Wherever it wants. I’ve been so many shapes in the last 6 years, I’ve lost count.
I met a Menopause Goddess sister shopping one day in J Jill, a store where I can actually find clothes that fit and don’t make me look like Old Mother Hubbard. We were discussing shape changes when she burst out, “ I don’t have just a muffin top – I’ve got the whole freaking muffin.”
That about sums it up. Body parts slide, recompact, and deposit in places you never imagined. Case in point, early in the pause I grew bodacious tatas for the first time in my life. Bought all new clothes to accommodate them. Then one night, the menopause fairy came and took them away.
But she must have gotten bored, because after a few years, when I’d finally given away my boobalicious apparel, she brought them back. Try going from a 32A to 34C to 34B to 34C-D. Sheesh. I should have bought stock in Victoria’s Secret.
Once upon a time, I wanted bigger breasts. (read most of the first half of my life.) Now they’re here. And frankly, they are just in the way.
I remember in high school biology when our instructor was teaching us about about endomorph and ectomorph or some such nonsense, that he singled me out as having the body of a 12 year old boy, a definite endomorph. I still remember how humiliating that was. (No, he wasn’t mean, just clueless. The fact that it was true only made it more embarrassing.)
I would love to have that body back now, I’ll tell you. Because along with larger tatas come larger thighs, larger tummy, and a big old butt.
I’m going thru my closet yet again – getting rid of clothes that don’t work with my new shape. Sigh.
Seriously, I never expected to have the exact same shape all of my life. But I figured there’d be 4, maybe 5 max. child, young chick, pregnancy, middle aged gal, old woman. Who knew what there were an endless succession of “morphs”.
And just about the time I get used to this latest one, I’m pretty sure it will be replaced by yet another. So I guess the aging gracefully part will have to be acceptance moment to moment. I’m not there yet, but I’m working on it.