When I was young, I didn’t think anything about my body. I lived in it.
Now, I’m aware of it all the time.
I have a hip issue, a shoulder situation and a knee thing. (I don’t call them problems.) I have turned into the sometimes limping and stiff vision of my elders. Instead of cursing myself and being angry, I embrace my body and all its imperfections. I love my body. My body has brought me here. My body has given me great pleasure. My body has birthed two children. My body has played thousands of hours of tennis. It has walked everywhere, run on beaches, hiked on mountains, skied and skated. It has sailed, walked cities, strolled through museums and sat in cathedrals and concerts all around the world.
For all the serious things I write about, for all the simple pleasures I extoll, I must admit something to you. It embarrasses me greatly. One of my guilty pleasures is to look at images of celebs not looking their best. The headlines are: Movie stars who are not aging well. Movie stars without makeup. Celebs who look older than their years. [Read more…]
Breakfast in chic deshabille. Robe by Matthew Williamson
Somewhere along the way, bathrobes got a bum deal. It was when we forsook nightgowns and pajamas for sleeping in nothing, or a ratty t-shirt or naughty underwear for sex, or the beloved pajama pant, that college students now wear 24/7.