A Flock of Birds On My Legs?
Recently I wrote a short essay about my legs, or more specifically, how humiliating it is to go to the beach with senior-citizen legs. They are lumpy and bumpy, certainly not the objects of beauty they once were, say fifty years ago. But now they are decorated with spider veins, bursitis swellings, bruises and other, ill-defined, non-decorative what-nots.
I’ve gotten a fair number of comments from folks, male and female, who say they can relate to my complaints. Some of my readers have been kind enough to even offer he
suggestions such as wearing maxi-dresses, going to the beach at night, in the
rain when no one else is there, wearing long pants. All worthy ideas.
Other thoughts have occurred to me, such as wearing leggings or tights. Those seem to be a fashion trend designed for my cosmetic issues. Though none of these ideas is the perfect solution in the heat of the summer. And then another idea occurred to me while I was at the gym getting ready for my thrice-weekly water torture, no--exercise, class. Note it also requires the wearing of a swimsuit.
I have long been one of those old-fashioned people who had thought tattoos not particularly attractive unless sported by sailors or motorcycle gang members. But perhaps I should reconsider. While struggling into my swimsuit, I noticed a young woman in gym apparel with a lovely flock of birds on her back and shoulders.
Maybe artfully-applied tattoos could turn my imperfections into a lovely design of fish swimming on my shins? Or a flock of birds on my thighs. Something to think about while I tried to get my heart rate up in the pool and not otherwise injure myself.
Of course, I should add, and not as an afterthought but as a serious point, I realize how lucky I am my focus on spider veins and unsightly body parts is a vanity issue. Many of my contemporaries are dealing with serious issues; my complaints pale by comparison. Some have life-threatening conditions. Others are in the joint-replacement, bionic categories, using walkers or canes. And still other contemporaries are dead.
So what to do? Well, until I join that last category I’ll continue to try to find the humor in the situation many of us lucky enough to make it to the senior-citizen category find ourselves in.
I’ve even given thought to other body parts. If Nora Ephron could write a whole book, “I Feel Bad About My Neck”, regarding one relatively small body part, what could I do with my whole body?
For example, I have a wealth of funny material: the bursitis in my hip; the arthritis in my spine; not to mention the weird little pain in my left shin, which is the one small body part without any apparent disfigurement.
The good news about all these issues of ailing: I’ve found I no longer have to carry ID to get the senior citizen price at the movies. And the older I get the harder it is to remember what to bring along. But that’s another story.