I am 55 years young.
I’m not the weight listed next to my height on the chart. I’d look like death warmed over if I was. I haven’t been that size since I escaped the womb for Pete sake.
I got out of the shower and was drying off, whoever decided a large mirror in the bathroom was a good idea had to have been drunk.
I normally don’t pay too much attention to it when I’m nude. For some reason this time, the reflection caught my eye.
I stood there looking myself up and down.
My physical eye saw where gravity had taken its toll.
Perky can now only describe my personality after a pot of coffee.
The pink scar from my belly button down, a reminder of the 2 beautiful babies I carried for months. The only true time in their lives that I would be the only one that could shield them from the bad in the world.
Throughout my hips and tummy are lines. A pattern of stripes where my skin stretched to make way for the temporary home I needed to provide for my children. Leaving memory marks taking me back to the 80’s, the 2 times my body was perfect
They remind me of tiger stripes.
A time in my life I was fierce and protective of my Cubs.
I used to dislike them, now I want to tattoo them and make them bolder as a statement of my best accomplishments.
Not a participation ribbon, but my grand champion trophies.
I am proud of them.
I don’t have a six pack, well if I do its behind this pony keg. It’s not that bad, I could model, it may be for the farmers almanac but hey, we all fit in somewhere.
These thighs. Eh, I own them.
I have a scar on my hip where bone was taken to put in my neck, another scar. I tell people the neck scar was a bar fight. Sounds better.
Under the end of my chin is a faint mark where I had stitches. My mother said I tripped over my cousins truck in the floor when I was two and met the edge of the coffee table.
My left thumb had stitches, a reminder I was a chef of my own restaurant but looked away for a split second while sharpening my chef’s knife.
On the top of my foot is a burn scar. Iron fell from the ironing board and landed on the top of my foot. Mom smeared mayonnaise on it to cool it down.
I have plenty of marks on this body, the mirror only shows what the eye can see.
Other scars are hidden inside.
Broken hearts, hurt feelings, bruised ego.
And so much more.
I own each and every scar I have.
It’s the roadmap of my life.
Showing what I’ve survived the past 5 decades.
I’m comfortable in my skin. You should be too. It’s what holds all your adventures and memories together.
Rawr!
Lorene
