Whose Thighs Are These Anyway?

Whose thighs are these anyway?

Mother Nature sometimes gets a bad rap, but I think she's actually quite kind. Somehow she knows how to coordinate failing eyesight with crepey thighs. The result being that although once you pass sixty your thighs are unrecognizable, your inability to see without your reading glasses prevents you from being aware of this fact. 

Unless of course, if you are in some really bright light, and then what you find yourself doing is  moving in and out of the light in hopes of not having to accept the reality that your thighs have gone south and are reminiscent of your grandmother. 

Although burned in your brain you find yourself running to the nearest bottle of lotion in hopes that maybe with a little moisture your long ago taunt skin might make a comeback. Unfortunately, there is only so much that a bottle of Jergens can do, and you have to accept the fact that gravity, and aging seems to be winning. 

It's at this point that you thank your lucky stars that capris seem to be a fashion trend with staying power now that the Baby Boomer generation has the buying power to make it so. I can't help but feel a little envious or even quite shocked when I see someone in their twenties sporting shorts well above the knee, and realize that that was me forty years ago. How could my once smooth skin have changed so drastically?

So what's a girl to do? Just keep slathering on the lotion I suppose, and disregarding the road map of spider veins that rivals Rand McNally, and just get on with the business of living. You know what they say, "Out of sight, out of mind!"