We're getting older, my sisters and I. Our conversations often turn to this fact, we discuss how, when exercising, we sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies with joints snapping, crackling and popping. We compare the amount of gray in our hair the wrinkles at the corner of our eyes, the once firm flesh that is now like a bowl of jiggling JELL-O. We reminisce about our once slender waistlines and how they've have gotten wider, chuckle about how the sand in our hour-glass shapes have shifted and we concur that, as Winston Churchill once said, getting older is not for wimps.
In a recent phone conversation with my youngest sister, I mentioned that bright light was very unflattering to me and that I looked better in soft light. At night, as I prepare for bed, I turn on a low wattage light in my bathroom, I found that in this dim light I look at least 10 years younger. I told my sister that the dimmer the light, the better I look and if I turn out the light completely I look absolutely gorgeous.
True, getting old is not easy, but laughing about it makes it a little more bearable and, thankfully, wrinkles don't hurt.