I think I might turn into one of those old ladies who doesn't give a fig - like that fabled old woman "who shall wear purple" and who spawned that awful red hat business that I am almost old enough for but will never really be old enough for.
I think this - because today I broke old lady rules and fat lady rules and threw caution to the wind. It felt amazing.
It is a beautiful day here in suburbia, so after the oppressive heat of the last couple weeks, I decided it was time to read on the deck. I grabbed my book and headed for my beloved lounge chair, but I paused on the way. The decking itself was beckoning. I never do that. I've mentioned that I have a lounge chair, right? But the call of the boards was loud and I was helpless to resist it. I laid down flat on the deck, my knees bent so that my feet rested comfortably on the first step. My old back - from whom I had expected protest - practically sung in relief. I'm not sure, but I think the song it sang was Take the Money and Run. It didn't make sense to me either. Not right away.
I couldn't figure out a way to read in this position, and the sun was gently forcing my eyelids closed anyway - so I put my paperback under my head and spread my arms out - a pose I refer to as The Sun Worshiper. It felt glorious.
But something was missing.
The sun on my face was perfect. My pose - unlike any of my poses in actual yoga - was flawless. But....
My hands worked as if by muscle memory - pulling the hem of my T-shirt through the collar and knotting it through once again. I tucked the sleeves of my T-shirt under the shirt itself. My arms were exposed, my neckline was plunging and - *gasp* - my belly was exposed.
Now this is the sort of exposure that causes people who aren't very nice to reach for their cameras and post pictures online for other people to laugh at. Hahahahahaha - get it? Someone who is not genetically blessed still enjoys the way the sun feels on their skin. Just like real people. It's funny, right?
But I ignored the little voices in my head that reminded me of those not very nice people. I ignored the little voices that told me that no one wanted to see my old, fat mid-section - especially since it has not seen sun in over two decades! I ignored them and I enjoyed the way it felt to have sun touching so much of me.
It felt like summer.
And that's when I understood why I'd heard Take the Money and Run when my old back sang. A million years and a lifetime ago, that was part of a summer beach vacation soundtrack. It's not one of my favorite songs. It's ok, I guess. But damned if it doesn't take me to a pretty wonderful place.