I hate being dominated. I like the challenge of resisting being controlled by anything or anyone.

But there’s this thing called “aging” that suddenly seems to be impacting my physical body in ways that seem unfair, unreasonable to me.

Yeah, suddenly.

All my adult life I have been mistaken as being considerably younger than my actual age. I’m 39 and I got carded earlier this year; I thought the guy was kidding or flattering me because nobody mistakes a 39-year-old for someone who is underage, right?

Well, I don’t know. Perhaps my perception of my appearance has changed to where I believe I have such tell-tale middle-aged, dark, under-eye circles (admittedly, those could be from sleep deprivation since I post LATE at night) that I must cover them with “cover-up,” something I’ve never, ever done before.

And the layer I put on with my sixth pregnancy did not go away like it did after the first five — not enough elasticity in the skin anymore to “put things right,” I’m told, not even with all the exercising I love.

I actually didn’t think too much about it until a sister said very seriously that she’d hook me up with a mini tummy tuck. Whoo-hoo!

That was two years ago.

Alas, the surgery never happened. I hadn’t entertained the thought before, but since it has been put before me, it’s all I think about when I’m choosing my clothes each morning; things fit so awkwardly, so disproportionately.

My point is that my feelings about my body, clothing and “layers” is vanity. In all honesty, I am not at the point where I would turn down a mini-abdominoplasty if the opportunity were there — I would be all over that! I do, however, understand that virtuous living is my ultimate goal. No age-related malady can wreck that!

© Alexa Lopez 2008