Aging

Someone stole my skin.

When I look down at my hands I do not recognize them. Where is that lovely skin I used to have? When did my hands get to look so very old? When did they become so wrinkled?

In my mind's eye my hands look youthful...as if no time had passed. In fact, even in reality I might see some wrinkles, but nothing like the ones that showed up in this photo on the day of my daughter's wedding.

Aging--it creeps up so stealth like--part by part--the body changes, actually morphs into a different looking person.

Honestly, the first time I knew that my body was aging was during a trip to the eye doctor when I was in my late thirties. Believing myself to be very young I was shocked when the doctor told me that "after all, you are almost forty." His declaration came after my near vision test was completed. I needed glasses, not only for my near-sightedness, but for reading as well. I remember the moment, and some little part of me said, "this must be the beginning of the end."

Since that time, I have had so many medical conditions hit me that I finally know for a fact that my body is aging--and aging quickly. (Look for upcoming stories on the details of some of these medical misadventures that have resulted in a myriad of body parts--all of which are aging--absolutely disintegrate before my eyes.)

For now just realize that if you are younger than 61, you are on the continuum which will bring you some day to my current age, or God willing, even older. Once you arrive, you will look out of the same eyes that you have always looked out of, and you will have to admit that although you don't see things any differently, your body does indeed look different than it used to. The mirror is always your reality check.

Do we ever see ourselves as old as our actual age? My eighty-six year old mother has told me for years that no matter what your age, you never stop thinking of yourself as the person you have always been...in spite of what the mirror may tell you. I have reached an age where I totally understand what she has often described to me.

I know I am getting older when I look at my friends. They are all aging gracefully, but nonetheless, I notice wrinkles and a bit of drooping and sagging here and there. I am reminded that they are beginning to look a bit older.... ....but on the other hand they are still the same people I met in my youth and nothing except the outside shell has changed.

It is true, my skin has failed me. But the truth of who I am is just as glorious as ever.