We all know her. She is the timeless woman: classic, ageless, gracefully accepting each challenge of getting older. Her lithe limbs glide across the room. Upon close examination of her skin, we wonder what night cream she uses. We assume she has spent her entire life in the gym and has never seen the sun. She looks stylish in flats. I am not that woman. In fact, I hate her. She is the epitome of “aging gracefully.” I, on the other hand, am aging disgracefully.
Over the next few weeks, because there is just too damn much to write about on the subject of aging disgracefully in one post, I will examine every aspect of how my body has begun to betray me. Continue reading