on getting older…

While going through photos the other day, I kept mistaking my friend’s daughter for myself. She is young. maybe 25. But she reminds me so much of myself . Her long glossy, dark hair, and smart little dress, and big red lips.

But something today made me  realise that the picture of myself in my head hadn’t yet caught up to where my body is.

A photo lands in my inbox. me at my last birthday, two weeks ago.

I look twice.

I don’t recognise that woman staring back at me.

This woman has big, rounded  breasts, like those of a mother who is suckling, a rounded belly, and full curves. she is wearing pants and a loose top.

This must be a mistake. this woman is grown up. Where is the real me hiding? The one with skinny legs and a tiny waist, shiny hair, red lips and devil-may-care attitude.

Where has she gone? Helllooooo wasn’t she just here yesterday? Can the body snatchers please tell me what they have done to her!

I get up, open my cupboard door and stand in front of the mirror.

And i see this new me.

This stranger i must still get to know.

I inhale.

she stays looking patiently at me.

I exhale.

she gives me a compassionate smile.

I try recipricate.

I really do.

But instead i lean forward,

and deliberately,

with my left hand,

i close the cupboard door

….and walk away.

we’ll have to meet another day, my voice echoes to the closed door….

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2 responses to “on getting older…

  1. “When I was young I was called a rugged individualist. When I was in my fifties I was considered eccentric. Here I am doing and saying the same things I did then and I’m labeled senile”…… (George Burns quotes)

    Btw, I like what you wrote….I feel the same way lots of times:)

  2. thanks Lois, it’s good to know i am not alone in this!
    And thanks so much for popping past,
    yes this ageing thing is not for the faint-hearted 🙂
    Too true Burns’s quote, too true hehe

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