For me, it's the legs...

Back to Nora Ephron. She attributed the loss of her youthful neck to being the unmistakable sign that she was past her prime. I've been lucky in so far as my neck is not wobbling yet. It is home to more spots and moles than it ever has -- the leopard effect -- but the skin is pretty much still intact. My legs are my abomination the reckoning that I am no longer a springtime blossom! I have no desperate need for a turtle neck, no indeed.  I need full leg coverage at all times. No matter that I run half marathons, hike the Sierra Nevada and practice yoga, the skin on my legs has the appearance of crepe paper draped over my skeletal-muscular physiology. Oh, and not to mention, the similarity my shins have taken  to an interstate highway map. Oh, I used to look so good in shorts --or, in the old, old days, a miniskirt -- but these days I wear shorts in the privacy of my own company.  What happened? Is it genetic? Is it sun-damage? Is it a side-effect of being fashionably anorexic in my twenties? Or, is it a combination of all three and the reality of Mother Nature's aging system? It's another nudge to get philosophical and grateful. It's what's on the inside that matters. Hey, my legs may be sagging, but they're still serving me well, whether on a twenty-mile hike at 10,000 feet in Yosemite, walking my doggie friends or supporting me in triangle pose. They work! And, for me, the saving grace is that my daughters have legs that rival mine. They're twenty-something with legs to die for! Long, thin, strong and... young. This is as it should be. I'm closing in on fifty-nine and the law of nature is quite simply applying itself. Oh, I never believed it would happen to me; that I would age. Grace is accepting the truth.

PS-It's the tummy, teeth, arms, and face, too!