We are creatures who live in a single skin throughout our lives. Our own consciousness is embodied in a skin that grows wrinkly over time. Our aging is obvious, no matter how much we try to resist it.
Our nearest cousins in terms of mammalian skin are elephants.
Can we be at home in our own skins, our own bodies, adjusting to the changes the various seasons of life bring to us? Dwight Judy
Elephant skin? Really??
Remember playing with the loose skin on your grandmother’s hand? Or her floppy, un-toned triceps?
I have the hand skin thing. I say it’s due to medication but it’s probably age-related. And the triceps? My trainer keeps trying different ways to work on them.
I can’t hold onto hand weights because my arthritis has damaged my wrists and fingers. She talked me into buying black suede weight-lifting gloves. Do they go with grey hair and black crop pants?
I sat at the bank drive-through today watching a young woman’s hand go back and forth. It was all smooth and tan. I looked at my own hands.
How many cloth diapers did they dunk? How many sticky faces and hands and dirty feet did they bathe? How many tears did they wipe?
My hands don’t care what they look like. They just try to do what I ask. And I’m grateful.