In Search of My Sixteen Year Old Booty…..

Have you seen it? I sure as hell haven’t.

There are some things I love about getting older. That’s right, I said love. Okay make that one thing. Wisdom. Wisdom to know not to take some things so seriously. Wisdom to not be in debt. Wisdom to know that some dumb guy not reciprocating feelings is a matter of taste and not because he thinks I look like a purple Snuffleupagus.

Other than that, you can take the rest. The suddenly sagging parts. The five extra pounds you can’t ever seem to get rid of, no matter how many miles you put on the treadmill. The gray hairs you either pluck out with a vengeance or dye as if each strand is a symbol of your dwindling youth. The weird dimple in your ass you can’t seem to get rid of no matter how many squats you do.

As a former athlete, I always swore that as long as I kept working out, I would be one of the few to escape cellulite. In my twenties I figured as long as the gray hairs in my head were buried far in the midst of my think black hair, I needn’t worry about them. In my youthful naiveté, I thought as long as was armed with the right Vicki’s lingerie, I could counteract the effects of gravity.

But one day after my thirtieth birthday, I got out of the shower and looked in the mirror. My body looked the same as it always did….almost. There were some gray hairs at my temple. Nothing a trip to the salon wouldn’t fix. Was it me, or were the girls not as perky. Oh well, I could get another bra with better support. No need to be alarmed. And then I turned around and saw it. My booty. It wasn’t as I last remembered it. Sure, it was still firm…..ish. I ran and worked out and did squats. But it wasn’t as I remembered it. And to make matters worse, there was now a funny looking dimple in my left thigh that looked remarkably like cellulite. What? How could this be? Where had the bounce quarters off of it booty of 16 gone? Somewhere over the years it had been replaced by its ‘in shape but certainly not bounce worthy’ booty of my thirties. When the hell had that happened?

On my way up to Carmel this weekend, as I waited for my flights I came across two distinctly difference creatures. One, with her lined skin, kind voice and toddler bouncing on her lap was as familiar to me as chocolate chip cookies and old dusty books. The other with her Botox and Collagen injected face, perfectly smooth and surprise frozen skin, murmuring to the toddler in the seat next to her that he mustn’t call her grandma but instead call her Judy. Two very different women, they looked different, acted different, so far on the opposite sides of the spectrum. Which one would I be?

Now I never thought I’d be one to want to age gracefully. I figured I’d be kicking and screaming the whole way. Living in Southern California It’s easy to see the products of plastic surgery and not even blink twice. Adverts for the latest plastic surgery procedures are on television every day. I’ve always been a proponent of if you don’t’ like something, then fix it, but am I ready for the plastic parts the frozen smile and the forever surprised eyebrows? God only knows. One thing I’m certainly not ready for is the Brazilian butt implant. Yes, women are inserting something into their buts to now have the booties of Brazilian women. Do I want my sixteen year old ass back that badly? Maybe that’s a step over the line.

In Ghana there is a saying: “You too go grow.” Not surprisingly you always find some elder woman muttering this under her breath to some sassy young girl who has not a care in the world and inhales chocolate like it’s religion. I’ve always thought the saying was mutterings of bitter old women in search of their sixteen year old booties. But maybe I was wrong. There’s inevitability to age. You can greet it happily with open arms, but who wants to do that? Or you can line up for your Brazilian booty implants. Either way you’ll have some wisdom and like it or not a couple of wrinkles. Are you going to spend your life worrying about how to stave off crow’s feet or are you going to live every minute of it. Soak it up and enjoy it?