As I paused from my little rant about how pregnancy had changed my body forever, my 80-year-old Grandma turned her head thoughtfully to one side.
“You know?” She said. “I remember thinking that way. I would feel so ugly, and complain and complain about how I looked. I couldn’t understand how my husband could be attracted to me.”
I nodded, leaning forward as I expected some sympathy.
“That was before I realized how stupid I was being.” she continued.
“At 30 years old I complained and hated how I looked.”
“Then at 40 years old I looked at the pictures of myself at 30 and thought about how good I had looked then. I was miserable about how much older I looked at 40 years old!”
“And then at 50 years old I looked at pictures of myself from when I was 40 and realized I was dang hot at 40 years old and hated all the sags and wrinkles I had at 50 even more.”
“At 60 years old I looked at the pictures from when I was 50 and mourned how much uglier I had gotten in 10 years.”
“And at 70 years old I couldn’t believe how great I had looked at 60 compared to 70, and wondered why I had ever thought I looked bad.”
“And then I realized that I had wasted all those years thinking about how much older I was getting, instead of enjoying what I had right at that moment. So I decided to enjoy my body each day for what it is, and enjoy how beautiful I am right now. Because who knows what I’ll look like in 10 years, and then I’ll be looking back at pictures from now and thinking about what a sexy fox I was.”