The Existential Woman

Shanna had celebrated her 52nd birthday alone. She had decided that since she spent the majority of her time alone, holidays and celebrations were not going to be special or a priority in her life anymore. She looked into the long full-body mirror to judge herself the way she judged others, on appearance.

She saw the reflection that the looking glass offered. She was neither thrilled or upset by what she saw. Her hair had been shaven off, a year previously, and was just starting to grow back. The grey strands were much more prominent now and she recalled when she got a compliment for the one grey strand in the middle, but that was over eight years ago. Now the greys were multiplying and she knew that to some people grey hair was just a sign of old age, but as she stared at her greys, she knew that to her the greys were much more important and she wasn't going to dye her hair or cut it unless it was absolutely necessary. She liked the abundance of grey hair and she imagined how they would look once her hair grew past her shoulders.

Her face was still mostly clear. She had recently acquired a permanent blemish on the center of her nose. She knew she could conceal it with liquid make-up, but she rarely put make-up on. She decided it was just another "birthmark" or "scar" to add to her list, and she was usually proud of those. She could not remember when or how that mark had appeared. The shape of her eyes, nose, and cheeks were all still "normal" so she had nothing to criticize or complain about when she looked at those parts of her face. Her chin had not changed either and was still somewhat squarish to the rest of her roundish face. Her lips were small, ironically, considering she always had a lot to say and liked to say it loud. Lipstick was still her favorite piece of make-up. She always thought that women wearing lipstick were glamorous and pretty.

Her right ear was still healing from a doctor's accident. She had trusted the doctor to help her heal the ear after something got clogged. The doctor had poked her ear with a metal device, probably causing a puncture, and for a long time Shanna could not go underwater because the ear would clog up worse and cause some pain. She looked at her ears in the mirror and there were no signs of damage, yet she knew what she felt internally. She had recently gone for a swim, dove in to the water and felt the discomfort in her right ear, but she could tell that improvement was occurring, because the discomfort didn't last as long. She would continue to wait for the ear to heal, and not push the issue with her desire to swim this summer. She only hoped there would be a future summer for her where she could enjoy swimming again. Her morbid way of thinking sometimes led her to believe that something like an ear infection would ruin her joy or life forever. She had to fight herself to believe differently.

She noticed her bare arms in the mirror. They were skinny arms with petite hands and small fingers. Her skin was creamy and light, yet she knew how fast a few hours in the sun could tan her flesh. She didn't like looking at her own arms. They were the skinniest things on her body, and they only reminded her of how she was 30 years ago. As if the rest of her body had aged, but her arms never did. As if the rest of her body had grown and changed and dealt with aging, while her arms were still persisting to believe she was in her 20s. To her, the tiny arms were a painful reminder of how her beauty had changed, how she had aged and gone from a size 5 and weighing 120 pounds to being a size 14 and weighing 180 pounds, and how she could not forget what she looked like 30 years ago.

Her breasts had changed some too, but she was still very fond of them. She wore a bra most of the time, but her taste in bra styles had changed. She used to only wear Playtex size 42DD, but as she reached her 50s, she began to wear looser, more comfortable styles that did not have sizes besides small, medium, and large. She liked these new bras better, they were less restrictive, and she could wear them like t-shirts if she felt like doing so. Her breasts still functioned as if no time had ever passed. She remembered when they were filled with milk for her son 26 years ago. She remembered feeling embarrassed when the milk was leaking on her blouse. She remembered the sadness and frustration of having to fight both the hospital people and her mother for wanting to breast feed her son. In the end, she had resorted to feeding him formula, but she still believed that breast milk was better. She had decided to do so, not because others were pushing it on her, but because she knew that her diet was not perfect and she did want her son to get all of the best vitamins. She only got to breast feed for one month before switching to formula. She recalled her lovers, and how a few of them enjoyed her breasts. She recalled loving herself in private, and how she was much better at showing her breasts attention than any lover she had ever experienced.

Her stomach area was smooth to the touch and creamy to the look. Sometimes it was swollen when she was bloated from eating the wrong things or not drinking enough water, but for the most part there was nothing about her stomach area that was horrible to see. She looked at it as the area that always needed the most improvement. Although she didn't want to be muscular or skinny, she didn't want the stomach area to be bloated and "pregnant" looking. The c-section scar under the bottom belly roll could not be seen, but had created a permanent roll that she could not do much about. She could attempt to do sit-ups at the gym and try to decrease the appearance of that bottom roll, but she knew that the roll was comprised of 100% fat and she could not believe that sit-ups alone could transform that fat into anything else.

Her legs were beautiful and fit and sexy. She had acquired some scars from bug bites and scratching, and from some accidental bump ins, but for the most part she was very proud and enjoyed looking at her own legs. She was not tall, only standing about 5 foot 4, yet her legs (looked at alone and not connected to the rest of her) appeared to be the model version of legs, minus the scars. She enjoyed wearing panty hose (that made the legs look even more perfect, hiding the scars) and tights especially on a cold day. Finding the right size in pantyhose and tights is not easy for a woman these days, she thought to herself.

She couldn't see her feet in the mirror so she looked down at them and smiled knowing that she never had anything negative to say about the way her feet looked. Her only complaints about her feet, were how they felt in certain shoes, or how they had gotten blistered and calloused after walking too many miles. Besides that, she enjoyed looking at her size 8 feet. She had all her toes, and she thought her feet were normal and cute. She had suffered a fall in Colorado in her early 20s and had damaged the muscles in her ankles. For that reason, she never wanted to wear high heels again and was very careful with activities like skating. She mostly wore flats and sneakers and boots to secure her ankles and avoid further falls.

After looking in the mirror at her whole body, Shanna gave herself a nod of approval. After 52 years, she was still satisfied with her appearance. She was not perfect, but she was good enough for her own self-love.