Thoughts on the body...

This morning in my yoga class I stood next to a girl 20 years my junior, and I couldn't help admiring her confidence. She wore next to nothing, but she wore it very well. Her brown skin was so smooth, and though she carried a bit of weight on her belly and had heavy legs, she was stunning. She even went so far as to wear one of those naval piercings that seem to dance with every movement of her body, a tiny jewel dangling over her tummy.

What I loved was her confidence. She looked at herself in the mirror with complete satisfaction. Every inch of her was pleasing to her own eye.

I never felt that at her age. At her age I would have come to class wearing baggy shorts and a big T-Shirt with the neck cut out--my silent tribute to Pat Benatar. I would have critiqued my body miserably, never appreciating that it was 26 years old and lovely.

Today at 46 I wear tiny shorts and a sports bra. It isn't out of showing a perfect body off, but out of necessity since the room is heated to 105 degrees and any more clothing would likely kill me.

But what I learned from the girl standing next to me was that showing off was perfectly fine. I worked at having that same attitude staring back at me in the mirror. The legs are good, I thought...not bad at all. No negatives, I heard in my mind, dying to point out that my breasts are falling and that my tummy is no longer flat...but no. I glanced sideways at my neighbor who looked out of the side of her eyes in the mirror at her perfect breasts, and almost winked at herself, I swear.

I looked back at me, and there I was. For an instant I did that side glance, happening to actually look at my profile in the mirror along the side wall. The ass has not completely fallen, I thought. In truth, it's not so shabby.

Throughout the class she was my inspiration. I loved the love she felt for herself, and it reflected right onto me. We did 26 poses in a steaming hot room, and at the end I lay quiet, grateful, and lovely in my own right.