I’m Shrinking!

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This post is all about my size,
I’m shrinking right before my eyes,
So as I share my tale with you,
Prepare to shed a tear or two…

I’m definitely shrinking. It’s been a gradual process, but I think I got the first clue of my true adult size when I fell off my platform shoes in the 1970’s. But thankfully, along came the 80’s with 4″ pumps, big hair and monster shoulder pads. I’m not saying that I looked like a linebacker in drag, but I felt I could tackle the world in that decade. Then with the 90’s, came a more scaled down version of my mega-self, although I still sported the highest heels I could climb into. But all good things come to an end.

Mirror, mirror: My diminishing condition went into overdrive when I retired from banking several years ago. Since then, a strange thing has been happening to my reflection in the mirror. I have progressively become smaller, shorter, lighter and significantly more…comfortable.

A good dressing down: The first thing I did after retirement was give away all my business suits; designer suits, power suits and tailored suits that made me look like the rest of my corporate comrades patrolling the concrete jungle. This was a major stage in my shrinking process. When I stopped wearing suit jackets, I thought I looked minimized and almost vulnerable. I was definitely more compact as I entered the shrink-age.

Hair today, gone tomorrow: With my new pared-down look, my daughter suggested that I go all the way and get a funky new haircut. She said that while my old ‘do’ didn’t exactly scream “I love Elvis”, he had not quite left the building. I have always been a white-knuckled makeover subject and I headed for the salon, feeling as comfortable as a twelve-hour ponytail.

Like phoenix rising: When I emerged from the chopping-chair, I found myself sporting a short spiky new look, not unlike that of the porcelain cockatoo sitting on my kitchen counter. And there was no doubt that my head had shrunk! However, my daughter assured me that I looked thoroughly modern and we had lunch to celebrate another important stage of my arrivement into retirement. Next, I was going for the big one. Shoes!

Heavenly bliss: I eagerly set out to explore life beyond stilettos – and maybe even find shoes that didn’t burn the soles of my feet, or pinch my toes into a pointed vise. Like a woman possessed, I searched until I found the Holy Grail of comfortable shoes. I discovered cushioned soles, marshmallow foot beds and lightweight walkers with attitude. I bought them all! Flat comfortable rubber-soled beauties that gave me more satisfaction than an itch in a box of sandpaper.

Melt down: The downside of this orgasmic moment of chiropodist bliss happened when I noticed I was much closer to the ground in my new shoes. Once again…I was wilting. Now, inches shorter without my height-boosting pumps, I was without a doubt – taking up less airspace. Friends looked at me rather strangely, as they continually struggled to adjust their eye level. “Didn’t you used to be tall,” they said.

No gobbledygook: Even my everyday language has been shrinking down. Power phrases like “organizational infrastructure, strategic inflection points and transformational leadership,” no longer roll off my tongue. There’s something refreshing about speaking clearly, without the need to fight your way through the fog index.

Scaling down: So over the years and during this metamorphosis, I have been shrinking steadily into a more compact and petite exterior. And even now, as I continue to wend my way from foxy to functional – I’ve developed a new and unfortunate intolerance to wheat, dairy and sugar. Consequently, even my bathroom scale has taken a sharp left turn into the skinny zone.

When will it stop? On top of everything else, my doctor tells me my spine is compressing, my dentist tells me my gums are receding, my hairdresser tells me my hair is thinning, and my younger (and always shorter) sister now thinks we’re the same height…delusional woman!

Final word: As an addendum to my shrunken condition, there are even more indignities to endure. According to the gravitational gurus, as we age – gravity will cause the tips of our noses to droop, our ears to elongate, our eyelids to fall, our jowls to flap, and our boobs and scrotum to sag. And while I’m thankful I don’t have the whole scrotum thing to deal with (although some may disagree), I do have all of the other aforementioned body parts. Get the picture? I hope not!

So here I sit in baggy pants,
To write this post for boomerrantz,
I vow to do the things I must,
And blog until I’m blogger dust…

Pat Skene


12 responses »

  1. Love your article on the aging process…….unfortunately though it is necessary because what’s the alternative?? Do you think if we lived to be 200 we would get back to our birth weight??

    Thank God the “sagging boobs” and “sagging scrotem” aren’t on the same body!!

    I so look forward to your next blog.

    Like

  2. A great post and very funny. Since I’m a teacher, my young self and my old self don’t look too much different, if you don’t count the wrinkles, facial hair, jowls, turkey neck, and things like that. I know I don’t.

    Like

    • Thanks for your comment. Best not to look too closely at those things. I think we should all have filters on our mirrors – like the old Doris Day movies. That way all the aging nasties would stay buried in the haze of our unrelenting beauty.

      Like

  3. The good news about aging, from my perspective anyway, is my eyesight is worse in dimmer light. This means that I don’t really see the full extent of the changes when I look in the mirror. I’ve reduced the wattage of the lights in the rooms with mirrors…

    Like

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