Person on the Page

First, a confession

I’m known to whine about my weight, lament my diminishing strength, grumble about aches, and otherwise hate on my physical self. If you spent much time around me, you’d probably laugh at my claim that I love my body.

I know that when I thought about it, I laughed. What is there to love about my aging body? I decided to write, to see what I could discover. “I write to find out what I’m thinking,” said Joan Didion, and I believe I do, too.

So, I sat for a very long time in front of a blank screen, my fingers poised over my keyboard, tempted to scrap this project and go back to writing about memory and trauma and retirement and the spiritual side of aging. Forget your aging body, a little voice in my head mumbled.

Wait long enough, though, and inspiration strikes.

Turns out I really do love a few things about my 65-year-old physical self.

Five things I love about my body

1. It adapts.
I know that I am not as physically strong as I was in my 20s and 30s. And I know that my aging body has limitations, and those limitations are likely to increase as I head into my 70s and 80s. I’m not deluded about my body’s ability to weather the years. At least, I don’t think so. (I guess if you’re delusional, you’re probably the last to know about it.) But now, in my 60s, it adapts nicely to changing physical demands.

When I was in my 50s and wanted to clear an overgrown plot of ground to start a garden, my body said, “Yes, let’s go!” I went from being largely sedentary to digging out tree stumps, clearing brush, learning to work a rototiller, hoeing, raking, weeding, and harvesting. Though I had never done any of those things earlier in my life, my body adapted to my new needs. I developed strength. My stamina and flexibility increased. My body was a willing partner in gardening and other strenuous physical activities that phase of my life demanded.

Now that I’m in my 60s and have scaled down my gardening pursuits significantly, it still adapts to new and varied challenges. Since downsizing to a new home in a neighborhood that includes a maze of well-maintained sidewalks, I walk for exercise much more than I have in the past. I climb stairs in my home and tend flowerbeds in my yard. My body has adjusted to these new activities with another, “Yes, let’s go!”

I know that a day may arrive when I ask it to take on new challenges and it will respond, “Well, maybe.” And a time may come when it says, “Sorry, no can do.” But for now, it steps up and builds whatever new strengths and abilities I require.

2. It accommodates me when I neglect or mistreat it.
I love cheese. Fried foods tempt me beyond my ability to resist. I’m becoming a slave to sweets, and sometimes I enjoy a little whiskey.

I always mean to get up early in the morning for yoga and meditation. I always intend to take the dog for a vigorous daily walk. I plan to go back to the gym. Really, I do.

But at all of these things, I fail. I don’t take care of my body as well as I should. I haven’t maintained my ideal weight or paid enough attention to preserving my strength.

My body doesn’t seem to mind. It keeps right on functioning and serving me as if I were treating it well. I know that may change with time and more failures. But for now, it keeps working for me.

3. Let’s talk about sex.
When I was 62, I got married for the second time. After my divorce from my first husband, I didn’t think I’d ever be in an intimate relationship again. But here I am.

Sex is not the same now as when I was in my 20s. My body is different, and it responds differently in the bedroom than when I was younger. But, I’m happy to report, it does respond. Sex is possible and enjoyable in my 60s. Feeling close to another human being again is a joy. Intimacy is more, shall I say, intimate now. Love moves more slowly, and touch is more luxurious. Things are going great.

Thank you, my body, for allowing me these pleasures as I age.

4. It still looks like me.
When I look in the mirror now, I can see that I’ve aged. But I still see me. I recognize the child I once was, there looking back at me. I see the young woman that child became.

Some days, I look wearied by the accumulated years. My skin doesn’t have the blush it once had. My arms are not as firm as they used to be. I can’t find my hip bones anymore (unless I really try). I’m not as slender and graceful as I once was. But I still see my younger self there in the mirror, regardless of all the changes.

My body tells me I’m still me.

5. It holds out possibilities for the future.
As time passes, my body continues to thrive. It invites me to keep moving and reminds me that I’m still useful to others. It allows me to hold hands and give hugs.

It promises that I can still grow stronger, become thinner and more fit, and face new physical challenges if I choose. So much is still possible.

Now, I know that no one has any guarantees. Things can change in an instant. And I know that my body will someday let me down. It’s inevitable. But right now, it hints that it will serve me well for a long time yet.

And for that, I’m grateful.

Cover Image: Adapted with ChatGPT from a photo by Vika Glitter at Pexels