Are We “Trailing Clouds of Glory”?

Sometimes I yearn for an answer, and thus would love your thoughts concerning this: why is it that as we age, our ability to accept change becomes harder and harder. Is it the long span of health and  independence that we take for granted…or does our human functioning disallow us from accepting our mortality? As Wordsworth wrote in his poem, Intimation of Immortality, children might arrive in the world: But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!

Thinking of those words, maybe it is because children do not have as firm a stake in the world as adults do. Throughout life, all of us must compensate and adapt. Sometimes it is only for a short while. Example: At the age of five, after eye surgery, I wore bandages on both eyes for a week. But a friend who is in her sixties, recently developed MS, Multiple Sclerosis. Now her ability to compensate and adapt will color the rest of her life. If we lose an arm, we are still the same person, that hasn’t changed us, though for the rest of life we need to learn to compensate with a prothesis. 

And even if we live with the scars from a traffic accident or a fire–we are integrally the same person, though often feeling great sorrow over our loss. And though we might struggle to adjust, learn to love the altered person we now present to the world, within we have not truly changed. Which makes it so wrong when someone might label us, the speaker doing so to distance himself or herself from what they might experience in the future–because it is there…that deep-seated human fear, some more than others disallowing it when they risk life and limb regardless.  

DEALING WITH PHYSICAL DIFFERENCES 

It is possible, that we instinctively know our bodies are fragile, and being human, we crave distance from the pain and suffering of others. But even as a child, I began to realize that I might give pain to someone else when I wanted to look away from their suffering. (Children know and often say right out…what happened to you?)

Maybe I found my way into nursing to better understand that human reaction, to acknowledge and be more caring. I believe each of us, no matter the shape of our body, the losses or problems we might live with, deserves the acknowledgement of a whole human being. And because I believe this, I have learned not to run and open doors for the handicapped, unless explicitly asked to do so. Once, I approached a blind man, telling him that the usual entrance to the mall was blocked by decorations. He whirled on me, told me he knew exactly where he was going. I learned that day that I had invaded his space, and in that particular situation, I was wrong.

BUT DO WE TAKE FOR GRANTED OUT BODIES, HOW WE CARE FOR THEM?  

Like lingerie. Don’t even try being innocent in certain bras—immediately you’re a tigress. To push the fantasy, the models’ photos are air-brushed into perfection, revealing completely bared buttocks in thongs, and facial expressions that looked pre-, post- or in medias res orgasm. Now that’s some lingerie!  And yes, the time-line has crashed over the edge of the flow chart.

So where do we go from here? A scary question that makes me acutely aware of the attributes I have or more accurately, don’t have. The women peering out from magazines, television, the internet have perfect skin, defined arms and legs, breathtaking décolletage, slim stomachs, firm breasts and buttocks, incredible flowing hair, sexy everything. How can I be happy with my aging self when the world around me has raised the bar to unattainable heights?  

In my twenties, the bar just wasn’t that high. I wore ordinary bras. Everyone did. I can’t even remember the nondescript panties. If you did shop Fredericks of Hollywood, you were close to being a slut, though there was the trousseau lingerie you received at wedding showers—considered totally acceptable by your girlfriends. But Grandma Harriet? She’d have a seizure now. Because why do we have to look like we all work in a bordello? I’m aging, but also concerned as to how to encase my anatomy. What’s a girl to do?

GET OVER IT!

Maybe take the sad trip to VS or some other lingerie department. We’ve all been there, standing in the dressing room naked, looking at sagging breasts, and for some, baby-making tummies, and for others, I-like-desserts-too-much tummies. You check out the fine wrinkles in your knees and the occasional spider-veins, and either cry or just keep sighing as the fluorescent light transforms your skin into a lovely grey, revealing every facial flaw. (Advice: don’t ever bend your face over your mirror—gravity will allow you to see where you’ll be at 90, sans Botox. HELP!!! ) So you stifle the urge to break the full-length mirror, telling yourself: stay cool. Then you suck everything in and try on THE BRA. At VS it’s probably called the “I feel sexy bra,” though you don’t. Because this is the sad trip, the one you take when your lover drops you despite the surprise party you threw him complete with stripper. Or your longtime boyfriend was relieved to get transferred to Australia, or your husband has revealed he’s doing it with the dog trainer. JUST KIDDING! But you’re familiar with the drill. Time will always win!