"You're So Vain"...Celebrating Physical Changes - My Knees Are Changing

Marianne LaValle-Vincent is a published poet, writer and humorist. She has won numerous literary contests and is the author of three poetry collections. Her greatest pleasure, after writing, is cooking and entertaining family and friends.

My Knees Are Changing

I have hardly come to terms with my ever-changing body. At more than 50 years young (I refuse to even think the word old) my once youthful, wrinkle free body needs a good starching and ironing!

Let’s start with the sagging. Gravity has taken over everything from my extra chin to my knees, and that’s not the worse part. Purchasing garments to “keep things uplifted” cost more than sponsoring a small third world country. Forget Victoria’s Secret, I’m now into under wire minimizers that start at about $38.00. And the panties, well let’s just say that when our flag of Italy ripped, the husband decided to fly my jockeys! I long for the lacy demi-bras and the flower kissed thongs. It’s impossible to wear them when your body now has its own zip code.

Short skirts are out. My knees are lookin’ like a small ham hock fighting to escape from its skin. I tried wearing smaller panty hose, but after two hours of not taking a deep breath, I let the knees fall. And the cellulite, it isn’t that I’m an extremely vain person, but I would love to be able to wear a bathing suit and not look like a loaf of dough that someone kneaded and left to rise!

There are mornings when I purposely dress in the dark. Black has become my favorite color. I recently purchased my first pair of support hose. (I hesitate to tell you that the thickness of these stockings make my legs look like they are wrapped in brown paper bags) I know it’s only a matter of time until I make friends with polyester. God, that’s a frightening thought.

I have at least 25 pairs of gorgeous pumps that I can no longer wear. Even my feet have become enlarged. So much for ever playing the part of Cinderella. The shoe would have to made of rubber. I can’t wear sleeveless anymore because my children love to “flap” the loose skin under my forearms calling me “Angelina from the Pizzaria”.

The other day I decided to torture myself. I tried on my favorite ivory dress that I wore for a cocktail party a few years back. It used to fit like a glove showing every curve of my body. I sucked in everything I possibly could before attempting to get into it. My husband walked into our bedroom as I was reaching and straining to grab the zipper.

“Wow”, he chuckled. “I guess another dress of yours shrunk, huh?

Payback’s comin’. I think I’ll go dig up his lime green leisure suit!