I´m sorry for growing old. I’m sorry for getting fat.
It’ only seemed like yesterday that I was this skinny girl running thru the neighborhood, full of life and energy. Summer hours spent in the creek a few hundred yards from our house.
It only seemed like yesterday when I turned 18 and thought I was invincible…the world before me. It seems like it was just yesterday that I turned 21 and I could be called an adult, old enough to vote and old enough to buy a 6 pack of beer..
The time from being a little kid to now seemed impossible after all it had just been yesterday that I’d sat on my fathers lap while he weaved stories of ancient men and ancient lands. I’m sorry for getting old and fat.
It only seemed like yesterday when I turned 25 and a woman reminded me I was just a half century old as I blew out a candle on a cupcake she had made to celebrate this great occasion. It seemed a lifetime away to think of turning 50…that would make me half a century old and few live to be 100 years old.
I’m sorry for getting old and fat
It only seemed like yesterday when small children ran around me and needed my help, my hugs…now they are grown with children of their own. Which means I’m a grandmother and even, yes, a great grandmother. I never thought of myself as having grandchildren, let alone great grandchildren.
It seems like yesterday when I turned 25 and had my last child…or that it was just a few years ago when I was 22 that I signed my name on a contract that made me a home owner, the American dream come true. It seemed like yesterday that I was that young, that I was fit as a fiddle. But yesterday, someone reminded me of how much I had aged and how much weight I had gained…I was called fat and old. I’m sorry I grew old and fat. I really am.
It seemed like yesterday that I would look in the mirror and admire the person who stared back at me..pretty and thin, full of life, with energy to spare…the woman with dark hair and firm breast…though stretch marked my belly as a reminder of children they were scars which were denied to many women…women who would never feel the kick of a child in their belly, or the ache of a back carrying extra weight with the life of a little human being living and breathing inside her. They would never hear the words, mother, mommy , momma, let alone grandmother…they would never lay awake at night waiting for teenagers to get home from their first date, or first prom, they would never see the heart break of a child’s broken heart or their fear of being left in a new town as they started off a new chapter of their life, college, university…they would never feel the sting of tears of driving away and feeling like your heart was breaking as you left a little piece of yourself with strangers…
It only seems like yesterday that your child became an adult…married, had children…bought a home and it seems like yesterday when you were the most important person in their life’s…today they might call and visit when they have time…but now it is their time to do the things you once did when you were young…
I’m sorry I grew old.
It only seems like yesterday when life changed and with it came heartbreak, disappointment and life would never be the same again…like a crystal vase that is broken and glued back together…the cracks will always show and there will tiny little missing pieces and cracks that let the water out so that it becomes useless and is only a reminder of what life had once been and what it is now…never putting it back together again, never perfect, but broken…it only seems like yesterday that I was 34 and life would change forever…It would bring new people, new experiences…it only seems like yesterday that in some essence though only imaginary, I had a new chance, a new start. I’m sorry I grew old and you no longer found me good enough.
It only seems like yesterday that you lovingly touched my face and said I had pretty skin. It only seems like yesterday that you made love to me and looked at me with lust and love. It was just yesterday that I would turn you on with a look or a touch across your hand or a glance in your eyes that would spark a fire in your loins and you couldn’t get enough of me. It was only yesterday when we skipped work and spend the afternoons in bed, making love…your strong hands on my slim body, hungry for the physical release you so craved. I’m sorry that you sit with me at a restaurant and look at the younger women or the women my age who haven’t wrinkled like I have, who haven’t gained all these pounds I carry. I’m sorry I’m no longer attractive to you.
I’m sorry and ashamed as I sit or stand naked before you with wrinkles on my face, my hair turned gray, my hearing slowly fading, or my eyesight fading…my fading youth is long passed gone, now I’m 64…what was that song, “will you still love me when I’m 64?”
I’m sorry and ashamed when you look at me and turn away as if in disgust…as your eyes fall upon my sagging breast and the muscles that once defined my slim and lean body slowly give way to old age…I’m sorry it takes me longer to get excited and my brain says yes, but my body takes a while to engage…I’m sorry for getting old and I’m lossing my sexuality.
I’m sorry I don’t turn you on, or excite you ..I’m sorry that my looks were the most important thing to you and not my heart, my kindness, nor my gentleness…I’m sorry that those things we once enjoyed are slowly fading away…I’m sorry that I have flabby skin and rolls of fat. I’m sorry that my face has gained a wrinkle or two, or even three since the last year…I’m sorry for growing old and not looking like that old girlfriend you ran into the other day, or the the girl you dated in high school who has money and can afford the gym everyday and had plastic surgery to firm her face and fix that saggy eyelid….I hear you tell me about so and so who never had a child and earned a Ph.D. And travels the world, lecturing on animal husbandry and still looks like she did when you first met her…
I’m sorry I’ve grown and fat old before your eyes…I’m sorry that you look at the outside shell of me and never stop to see all that’s hidden inside. I’m sorry for getting old and fat and decrepit. Yes, my eyes can’t see the fine letters at the end of a contract, I’m sorry you have to yell at me and repeat your sentences because I can’t hear you and my ears fail me! I’m sorry that I’ve allowed myself to get old, to get fat…I never meant too…
I remember the day you said I was beautiful, one day long ago. I remember how you once looked at me with lust in your eyes and now you turn away…and maybe the thing that hurts me is that you no longer want my company but instead dream of the company of someone else you’d rather have…I’m sorry hat I’m not what I used to be…it was only yesterday when I was young and pretty without an ounce of fat and muffin rolls were something you ate not hide behind long shirts and saggy blouses. I’m sorry that the last time we made love you had that look of being faraway, maybe wishing you could be with someone else…someones who’s younger, prettier, someone with less wrinkles and certainly someone who isn’t fat and old…you told me that one day. You said you were joking when the tears ran down my face…but what have I always said, the truth is said in jest.
My glasses came in yesterday, stronger lenses and my hearing aide comes In soon…I hope that when I put those glasses on I will still see you as the most handsome man I’d ever known I hope that you are still as beautiful as you were that first day I laid eyes on you…I hope that when my fingers touch your face they feel the strong features that made women turn around and look again..I hope when I put on my glasses I will look at your butt and it will be the same butt I used to love to grab as you walked passed me, or laid on top of me or I kissed when you laid in bed asleep and uncovered…I hope to get my arms around you and as as I stretch to get my fingers to lace around your girth I can smile inside and think, my cooking has kept you full… On the days when you had a terrible day at work, a plate of food waiting for you made you forget about the day you had, or that day you were sick and I made a pot of chicken so you would feel better…I know I don’t need glasses to see how handsome you still are, how looking at you across a restaurant table, I still am not ashamed or embarrassed to run my foot up your pant leg and crave for those years when we made love twice a day, or we Snuck butt grabs and kisses in public
I hope as my hand and arms stretch around you they feel that strong man who hugged me and had kisses to spare…when was the last time we kissed..it’s been so long I’ve forgotten, or is it my memory that’s fading and I don’t remember that it was just yesterday that you hungered for my touch, my mouth on yours, my hands in places someone else touches…I hope the hearing aides help to hear you say, I love you…because I don’t think I’ve heard you say those words in a long time…I hope to hear you tell me I’m still pretty and you like the way my skin feels… I hope to hear you say, I want you to sit with me when I take my last breath and hold my hand when I tell you I’m glad I knew you…I’m glad you loved me.
I’m sorry for getting old and fat and decrepit…I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop the years and the ravages of time…..I’m sorry that I didn’t push away that last bowl of ice-ream we shared at the ice-cream shop or push away that second serving of pasta I made for dinner…I’m sorry I thought to celebrate your birthday with a chocolate cake and a hundred candles. I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop Father Time…
I’m sorry for getting old and fat and decrepit and grouchy and less patient, I’m sorry that I don’t appreciate you like I should…I’m sorry that life has been cruel and made me old….but, I still love you…that’s the one thing that hasn’t grown old…my love or my heart…
I’m sorry for getting old and fat.
“”When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now
Will you still be sending me a valentine, birthday greetings, bottle of wine?
If I’d been out ’til quarter to three, would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?
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You’ll be older too
And, if you say the word, I could stay with you
I could be handy, mending a fuse, when your lights have gone
You can knit a sweater by the fireside, Sunday mornings, go for a ride
Doing the garden, digging the weeds, who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?
Every summer we can rent a cottage
In the Isle of Wight if it’s not too dear
We shall scrimp and save
Grandchildren on your knee””
Grandchildren on your knee
Vera, Chuck, and Dave
Paul Mc Cartney;John Lennon
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