A Grandmother's Journey into the Winter Years

Recently, I have made an interesting discovery; I've caught myself enjoying looking at "bad" photos of myself. I realize that some of the judgment about not being thin enough, "good-looking" enough is starting to subside. For one thing, I'm finally able to grok that that even if I had the "perfect body" it's still going to die. Do I want to bemoan my lost youth, and physical beauty, or do I want to live the balance of my years being radiantly happy? Which would lead me to inquire, what would being radiantly happy require. Certainly something more than cosmetics, wonder bras, and plastic surgery. The cost of plastic surgery is not really an option for me, eyeliner and lip gloss seem to be the extent of my make-up application routine, and shopping for the perfect bra can be a tedious endeavor. Should I let these things sadden me, or should I look at the impossible task of avoiding the changing appearance of my body as a blessing? For me, looking at it as a blessing is the way to go. Perhaps the secret of aging gracefully lies in this acceptance.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to look as good as you possibly can, to establish routines that provide better health contributing to more longevity, but at the end of the day, I have to face that I am aging. Eventually everything, I'm familiar with will disappear. I look in the mirror sometimes with disbelief, but sometimes, I find myself just falling in love with the silver haired plump form before me. I see in my own visage a reflection of all those that I have loved, and hated in the past, and I am moved to compassion, not only for myself, but for the condition of all of my human family.

Here's a great link to an essay Kathy-Piper Lally wrote on aging.