So yesterday, I put on a sun-dress and all I could see was my skinny, saggy arms and my skinny, stick legs and no boobs, so I changed. I put on stretch pants because they look good on skinny legs and a big t-shirt which hid the no boob situation.
But it was too late.
I had already seen myself in that sun-dress and as I’d I removed it I’d thought; this may be the last time I put on a little sun-dress because I look like a crazy cat lady wearing little girl clothes.
Which is why I’m advising you to think carefully before you lose weight when you are over sixty…
I lost twenty-five pounds and the first thing to go was my boobs. It wasn’t long before my unlined face bloomed with wrinkles from hell. Then the neck caught up to the face. I’m not kidding. I think one of the worst days was when I looked down and saw that I had saggy legs with wrinkles at the knees. My skin was hanging like a loose pair of pantyhose…and oh ya, the last thing to go was my big tummy…
I actually looked better at a hundred and thirty-five pounds than I do now at a hundred and ten pounds. I have bounced between being skinny and overweight, mostly overweight, for the last thirty years but every time I lost or gained, my skin behaved…not this time.
When I was thirty, I found out I had rheumatoid arthritis and it seems like every decade since then, something in my body goes haywire.
When I turned forty, I got trifocals and in my fifties, I had five surgeries with only one of them successful and that was a hysterectomy.
Two years before sixty, I got a brand new shoulder…so I’d hoped that would satisfy Decade Fate. Obviously, it didn’t. I thought I had slipped untouched through the turning sixty, but nope it was just waiting to surprise me at sixty-two when I first lost weight.
I’m sixty-five now and on the plus side, I look cute with my clothes on. For now.
I always knew I that I didn’t want to get old.
I was sure that I wouldn’t like it, but I really couldn’t figure out how to not get there and now I’m here.
I was right, I don’t like it.