I had a woman once say to me, “I used to think aging had escaped me. Then, I had my cataracts fixed.” She was not trying to be funny. She was dead serious.

I remember how mortified I was as a preteen when I realized my thighs were bigger than my arms.

Or at age 21 when I felt my boobs had started sagging.

Or my late 20’s when gray hair started showing up in my roots and that first whisker showed up on my chin.

Or in my early thirties when I realized that I could no longer see distances.

Or my mid thirties when I discovered that nose hair has to trimmed back.

Or my late thirties when I realized that I could not see to trim my baby’s toenails without my “old lady glasses”.

Or age 39 when I first saw that crows feet at my right eye.

Aging is an exercise in humility. I have done a lot of reflecting on this as I am about to enter my forties. I am proud of what I have managed to accomplish. And yet here I am, terrified of the knowledge that I am starting to fade away.

My deepest respect to everyone, particularly the women, who have already made this journey and found their peace.


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