ProlificMom

I’m almost FOURDY and just recently, starting about three years ago, I started getting comfortable in the skin I’m in.  Its the only skin I have and yet I’ve never been truly comfortable in it.  However, we (my skin and me) came to an agreement.  We are all we have.  There is no other.  I can’t get new skin and my skin really isn’t going to change.  Its not a blind date that I can skip out on and I can’t pretend its not there.

So here’s the deal.  I’m white – like almost glow in the dark white – and pretty wrinkly (except for my face, no wrinkles there)  I have always had wrinkles on my hands, knees, elbows and feet, and that is never going to change.  We have made peace and its really OK.

These are my hands (well, one hand – the other was busy taking the photo.   I do all my own stunts.):  They have always been very wrinkled like a Sharpe that starts off with wrinkles and then grows into its skin.  Only, for me, the wrinkles are here to stay.  I’m never going to grow into them.  They grew with me.  But that’s OK.  I have decided that I like my hands.  They are very useful for blogging and they have kept me employed for the better part of the last 12 years.   Not to mention all the babies I have held and loved and comforted over the last 15 years.  So what if I’m not one of the pretty hands people – you know, the hand models.  I’m OK with that.

(Yes mom, this is a photo of my hand on the stove.) Only my family can appreciate the irony of this photo.  I burned both of my hands on a stove top burner when I was five.  I will have to share that story another day.  Lets just say I was a very curious child.  To this day I don’t like to stick my hands in the oven.  So’ I don’t bake much.

These are my feet:  It was only a few years ago that I was actually willing to wear open toe shoes in public.  In fact, someone once told me that I had hillbilly feet.  After that I was traumatized and I never exposed me feet in public again.  Well, at least not until a few years ago.

I actually used to be jealous of girls with pretty feet.  They wore open toe shoes and sandals all the time with such confidence as if it didn’t bother them at all.  I guess they were comfortable in the skin they were in.  Now I laugh, thinking that I was actually jealous of some-one’s feet.  How crazy is that?   I’ll never be a pretty feet foot model.  But now, we are at peace and I say less is more – less shoes more naked toe wiggle room.

I’m almost FOURDY and I’m finally OK with the skin I’m in.