In my mind I have a picture of my maternal grandmother, mother of 11 children, flawed but beautiful
She looked like a grandmother—skin settling in, soft. Her hair went gray early but her face was always delicate and lovely
I am a grandmother now, and many of the adjectives apply to me—soft, round, wrinkled.
Fat to be blunt.
I am fine with all of this. I made a deal with myself years ago that I would see my aging process as an experiment in entropy—eventually gravity will have its due with us all.
I went on a deep dive this morning looking at a host of cosmetic procedures—surgeries, lasers, radio waves, deep tissue this or that—all promising to make a body toned, sculpted, and smooth.
I don’t really believe most of them work, but even if I did, I don’t believe they are for me.
I am supposed to “know God and glorify Him forever.”