Just when you think you've entered the nirvana years, old age, disease, poor lifestyle choices and gravity settle on a poor body, reminding you that once you've passed through your childbearing years, you are pretty much washed up.
I suspect this is why so many women postpone motherhood for so long. I held out until age 29, and, bingo if I wasn't diagnosed with MS eleven years later. In cave man terms, my youngest was ten-ish, so mother nature pretty much assumed that I was finished with reproduction, lactation, diaper duty and ready to enter the work-force again. So, she put the skids on my personal body maintenance and redirected her efforts to those of us younger and still actively mothering.
I was left with not simply a little anger, but a lot of anger. What does the forty-something do when diagnosed with a disease, that, if it kills her at all, won't for many years later. I suppose I could join a nunnery like William the Conqueror's wife, Mathilde, and spend the rest of my life celebrating my husband's achievements via tapestry . . .
. . .or I could go shopping.
What I love about the internet is that you can virtually shop 'til you drop (or maybe that's literally?). In any event, I just spent the last 24 hours in excruciating pain. And since my liver doesn't appreciate the smorgasbord of pain-killers I could take, I was left to my own devices of dealing with my pain through internet therapy.
I went to http://www.chanel.com and did some imaginary shopping. I currently weigh somewhere in the 160's so haute couture really isn't an option. But if, suddenly, my body reverted to age 17, when I weighed 95 pounds dripping wet, I could wear anything I wanted (not that I could afford it - couldn't then and can't now).
But I did come up with a spiffy little outfit from the Chanel collection. I combined some hats and boots from the Shanghai line with some really splendid frocks and britches. And in my virtual world world, all is now in alignment.
How does this translate to motherhood? What life would we mommies have if we didn't have an active fantasy life? Mine wold be in the hamper, with my size 14 fleeces and DD bras. Life just tosses you some rotten fruit, sometimes, and the best way to deal with it is to pretend you are somebody else for a while.
So at whatever stage you are in your life, practice a little escapism. Leave your plastic in your safe, but let your imagination run wild. In no time at all, you'll be prancing down the catwalk with me, decked out in thigh-high boots, a Chinese straw hat in basic black, and a sweater that drags the floor . . . with accessories dripping off your wrists.