At exactly what point in life does this happen?



MY OWN BODY

I watch her struggle up out of bed, her lower back’s out again, that’s what that grunt of pain means. I can tell she didn’t sleep well last night; there are dark circles under her eyes.

I wonder if all those vitamins she takes are doing any good. Maybe her stubborn belief that they help will make it true, after all, it can’t hurt.

Oh God, now she’s going to take a shower. This part is just too embarrassing to watch. That skin hanging down from the bottom of her upper arms is looking more like turkey wattles every day, and no amount of lotion will smooth those out. That little pot belly is never going away, no matter how many sit ups or crunches she does. Doesn’t she know it’s hereditary?

I hope she shaves her legs today, her legs are still great – runs in the family. She’ll be able to wear shorts when she’s eighty. She takes special care with her hair, uses expensive shampoo and conditioner. She’s still vain about her hair, even proud of the way the silver shines in the sunlight.

I don’t know why she stands in front of that big mirror to slather on the Lubriderm lotion. She never looks into it.

Time for the bi-weekly eyebrow tweezing. I think she spends more time on her chin hairs than on her eyebrows now. Oh she missed a couple right there. I watch her turn toward the big dresser mirror…oh no!

And then I see what I see every morning now. That old woman in the mirror with the wrinkled face and silver hair is me. I don’t know why it still surprises me every time, that’s my face and that’s my own body.