My bad knee, the left one, always pops and cracks and tells me in no uncertain terms, when its going to rain or if the barometric pressure is right for a storm. The more the precipitation the more it hurts. The right knee hurts too now, but I think that's because I've been favoring the left one up and down the 17 flights of stairs I walk (I walk the escalators too) every day just to get to work and home. Two trains have lots of stairs and my apartment building is half of it. Its either that or a tumor.
Some weeks my back screams at me from my daily back packs to work and back, and some weeks its all good. But the way my body feels past fifty is not the way my body felt past forty. And I get why older people get angry at their bodies lack of performance. The mind might still be sharp as a tack but the body slows down, even when you use it and are super fit. Which I am not, and if I can't breathe any better than this, never will be. Asthma sucks. And that is something else I've grown into. Instead of thin thighs or a flat tummy.
But with all my physical flaws, I can still look in the mirror and like most of what I see. If I concentrate from the waist up. And only my legs. Just skip that tummy part. Or only check out myself walking away. Which is just impossible! Believe me I've tried. I've been told I have a pleasing backside. But damned if I can see it!
Don't you wish, sometimes, that the you you see in your head, when you envision yourself, is the you that the rest of the world sees?
I didn't used to, because I used to hate myself. I used to blame myself for what had happened to me. If I hadn't smiled at him. If I wasn't wearing shorts. If I hadn't let him hold my hand. If I hadn't innocently asked for company when grieving. Maybe I can prevent it from ever happening again if I get fat. If I dress like a boy. If I stop flirting. If I stop being vocal and intelligent. If I carry my straight supporter umbrella EVERY time it rains. . .
SIDE NOTE: Its amazing to me how EVERYONE leaves me alone when I carry it. It's like they are afraid of rainbows. So the more afraid they are the more I want it to rain. And Beatle Boy and Flower Girl LOVE my rainbow umbrella and they say "It's God's promise." outta the mouths of babes. You see why I love being around children as opposed to adults?
. . .Maybe if I become invisible.
After decades of doing that, and being mostly happy raising my kids, mostly alone. (I miss you mom, everyday not just today.) I'm tired of doing that, and have recently stopped caring if I ever meet Mr. Right. Or if Mr. Hopeful ever leaves his wife. Or if I ever meet any friends in Chicago. Or of most anything except my own company. I wrapped myself into an emotional cocoon and healed as best I could from my pain and karma circa 1985-1995. The decade of epic breakups. All meant to wake me up, which it did. But it also caused me to hide for 15 years and focus on kids and career. Did so much better with kids that it became my career. Life leads on and I stumble to catch up. But the minute that I stopped caring, I found friends in Chicago. And that's a step in the right direction.