It happened so gradually, I barely noticed that my perfection had slipped away. My memory, which never failed me, decided to take a month off and head to Key West, all by itself. This was actually a relief. It would save me the stress of finding my bathing suit, sunscreen and whatever else I might need. I can’t remember.
In the past, if a pin dropped anywhere in my house, I heard it. If our kids skipped curfew and tried to sneak past our bedroom, I heard it. Even if they mumbled, I could decipher their words. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t. Now, an elephant could roar in my kitchen and I’d never hear a thing. A smoke alarm sounds like chimes from a Buddhist retreat.
My old limber self must have disintegrated right into the sofa cushions. Now I make animal noises to get off the sofa. It’s a roar, grunt, and strike a #10 gymnastic pose, once I’m vertical.
My knees do a Snap Crackle Pop jingle. I’m damn near musical and very entertaining. Some friends try to dance to my noises. But this is where I still have it. I can out dance them any day
I might not have the right rhythm to the music playing. What is that buzzing sound? Last week I did the jitterbug to Love Me Tender. The week before that I waltzed around the room to Chubby Checker belting out The Twist.
I used to have champagne glass sized breasts. Yes, I did. Then children kept arriving in my womb and then they wanted to nurse the life out of my breasts. Yes, they did. Now I need industrial strength bra straps to hold the poor suckers in place. If I wear a push up bra they jump out over the top to freedom!
There are other issues that I shouldn’t even tell you about. But I’ve bared my soul so I may as well be forthright. Speaking of bare, that is a big issue, literally. There’s a big woman in my bathroom mirror who smiles at me every morning. There’s steam on the mirror from my shower. When I wipe it clear she says, “Well, aren’t you just beautiful today?”
I just smile at her and wonder how the hell she got in my mirror.