Yanno…I remember being in my twenties, all full of vigor and energy, tight and toned and absolutely sure of myself. Positive that growing older was just a state of mind, and that I’d always look like that.
I have a picture somewhere of me acting goofy with my best friend, and I was wearing a little half shirt and a pair of button down levis…remember button downs? More importantly, remember the little half shirts?
I was so cut and flat-abbed, with not an ounce of fat. And honestly thought that was reality. (cue hysterical laughter here)
Now, at forty-four, I look back at that version of me and think oh Lord, if I only knew about the aliens that were coming. The ones that sneak in and pump fat under your skin, weave spells that make your muscles weak and wimpy, give your upper arms wings, and make your boobs fall down.
And something else. Something new. Something just in the last two months.
Someone did something to my neck.
I remember my mother’s neck when she got old. I remember playing with my GRANDmother’s neck when I was real little. You could move it from one side to the other and it would stay there, in the little grooves it made, because the elasticity was gone. I remember thinking it was cool.
Yeah…I’m rethinking that now. Because suddenly while getting ready one morning, I turned a certain angle to fix my hair. And I saw it. The little grooves. They…stayed there. I froze and stared and it was gone. I tried to replicate the angle, but nothing. So I thought it was something I imagined.
Then a couple of days later, there it was again. And so on and so on, and now that I’m looking for it, I see it more and more. That little spot that stays there. That doesn’t move when I do. Or DOES move when I don’t want it to. It’s like it has become it’s own entity. And I just want to know…
Who gave who permission to steal my neck and replace it with this thing?