Yesterday dear son was playing with the digital camera while I sat at the computer. I heard "Smile, Mom!" and turned in time for him to snap my less than elegant expression. I made the mistake of looking at the picture.
In the flattering lighting of computer monitor and desk lamp, I was jaundiced, windburned and spotty. When did I buy that turtleneck? Wait, that's MY neck!! Good heavens, when did the elastic on my body poop out like that?
Why is it that when you go barefaced in your 20s you look fresh-scrubbed and dewy, and if you try it in your forties, you look like a pair of chinos left in the dryer too long? Now that I finally have the chuzpah and self esteem to venture out in public without full-battle makeup and hair, it turns out not to be such a good choice. Why is it then when you finally come to terms with the body God gave you, you realize you really liked better the one He gave you earlier on?
There really is no justice here. And it's time to exfoliate. My, life gets complicated.
Summer Iris
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