9 reasons we love our grown-up bodies
When we run or swim - Look at what we can do! When we’re fleet-ish and maybe even find a bit of a rhythm for a second or two, rather than just sweat and panic. When we turn for another lap in the pool and, just before the lane rage hits, think, ‘If only Clare Balding could see me now.’
When we notice that getting older has given our faces definition - A new angle, a new line that isn’t a wrinkle, but rather a suggestion of some… architecture. And it’s rather *tries new word on for size* elegant… And we think, ‘Oh, we live here now.’ Until the next time we go to take a picture and the camera is on selfie mode and we catch a glimpse of our unfiltered, unposed, many-chinned selves and AARRGHH! My eyes, my eyes.
When we’ve remembered to moisturise - And we look down at our legs or our arms and wait, the lizard scales have gone. And there, shimmering gloriously, is the elasticity and smoothness of healthy human skin.
When we notice a cricked neck/stiff shoulder/ear-ringing has gone - We’ve been limping or letting out undignified little huffs as we get up from the sofa because of our knees (damn you, running), or grunting because our shoulders are twinging. And we’re thinking, ‘This is how it’s going to be FOR EVER.’ And then suddenly the knot clears or the muscle loosens or the ringing recedes and, oh, the sweet bliss of release.
When we are actually ‘in’ our bodies - It could be during sex and we’re not thinking, ‘I wish I hadn’t made that comment on Instagram,’ or maybe, ‘Do I truly believe that turkey bolognese is actually nice?’ Or it could be in the bath and we are just floating and not looking at the towels or the tiles or our toes and wanting to wash/change/paint them all.
When we are just the right temperature - Not so hot that we feel we may actually burst and splatter the walls. Ugh. Or suddenly so cold that we feel like Bob Cratchit and wear our fingerless gloves all day and night. But when our bodies have performed perfect climate adjustment – oh, how we love you then.
When we drop something, but catch it before disaster strikes - Glass about to go over… saved. Phone about to be smashed on the pavement… caught. We remember we are, in fact, ninjas. With the instincts of wild animals, the reflexes of assassins and that total oneness between body and mind.
When we sleep. Like, really sleep - We never love our bodies as much as when we’ve just woken up from real sleep. The stretch. The lovely heaviness. We wish someone had taken a picture of us sleeping because we must have looked peaceful. For once. What would that even look like? Incidentally, can you imagine how weird it would be if your pet suddenly gained some kind of greater intelligence and you had to explain to it why you had all those photos of it sleeping on your phone?
When we wake up without a hangover- And we really don’t deserve to. Well done, liver. We salute you.
I’m Absolutely Fine! A Manual for Imperfect Women, by The Midults, is out now (Cassell, £16.99); themidult.com
