Some thoughts on an (my) aging body

 Not Covering Up

I am not going to cover my thighs, but instead wear my short shorts.
These legs have carried me to where I am today. 
Through two triathlons
Two babies
Dancing the nights away. 
Yes, they are wrinkled like a shar-pei dog, or an elephant.
But they carried me when I was 
Seventy-five pounds heavier
Up mountains
And down 
They carry me now through my aging,
Through my life. 
Some say I should cover them up
Wear longer shorts, or capris, better yet full-length pants
But no - these strong legs deserve to be out in the sun 
To get freckled and brown (ish)
(I am fair of skin afterall).

I am not going to cover my upper arms, but instead wear my tank tops.
Some say I shouldn’t go sleeveless
I should cover up my bat wings.
I say
These arms have carried babies
Played tug of war
Swam for miles and miles.
Consoled the heartbroken
And held tight onto loved ones.
These arms are strong and deserve fresh air
So my shoulders can shine in the sun. 

A two piece? 
I dare.
What about the scar, and the skin that crinkles?
This scar is a reminder of a surgery that saved my life.
That extra skin used to wrap around two pregnant bellies.
That extra skin was a reminder that my fat was keeping me safe 
Until I didn’t need it anymore. 

That double chin of extra skin, and turkey wattle neck?
Some say surgery will take care of that
But I say each wrinkle and fold of skin is etched with all the smiles
And tears,
All the laughter,
And fears.
A reminder that there is less of me in stature, but
So much more of me in spirit. 
This is a face that people who love me love
So I will wear each wobbly bit with pride. 

If I offend you - look away.
This body got me here and 
I am going to celebrate it every single day,
Every jiggle and inch of wrinkled skin .
I plan to live to be one hundred and five
So get used to it.
I am not covering up any time soon.

Mary-Anne Taylor August 2020