“I want to be them someday,” I expressed upon entering the locker room at the local YMCA. These older patrons are admirable. I am even jealous of them. I want to be as comfortable with my body as they obviously are.
They don’t have perfect bodies—far from it. They have lumps and bumps; gravity has certainly taken its toll, but they strut around the locker room as if they were Heidi Klum. I, in contrast, am in the corner of the locker room with the towel in my mouth covering my less than attractive body; the twenty pounds I have gained since my hysterectomy sits on my body like a ball and chain, while these women-totally naked- stop to chat. It is an enigma to me. How do you get to the point where you are comfortable with your body AS IT IS? I am not there yet.