“Jelly on My Belly “: A story of self-acceptance.

Yoga

“Jelly on My Belly “: A story of self-acceptance.

This morning, I decided to keep it casual for my yoga session—boxer shorts and a t-shirt. Feeling cool and laid-back on this fine Sunday, I hit my first Downward Dog and immediately noticed something… unexpected. Whose legs are those? Surely not mine. Just a few years ago, I could look at these gams and think, “Not too shabby for 50.” Now at 54, it seems my legs have gone through some sort of gravitational jello-morphing process, and suddenly, they bear a striking resemblance to grandma’s strawberry jelly dessert.

I couldn’t help but laugh. As we declutter our home and let go of the past, I realized I needed to declutter the mental images I’ve been holding onto—the ones where my hair was brown, my legs were firm, and nothing jiggled unless I made it. But, truth be told, I’m doing a pretty good job of accepting this whole aging thing. After all, Google kindly confirmed for me:

“As women age, there are changes in body composition that include losses in bone mineral and body cell mass, and increases in total body fat, visceral fat, and extracellular fluid. These changes begin or accelerate during menopause.”

Confirmation I am in good company, but definitely no Botox, no Ozempic, and no lifts or tucks for me. I’ve got strong legs—just wrapped in a lovely protective layer now. This new jiggly addition seems to be happening all over my body, and actually, it’s kind of hilarious!

Sometimes during yoga, my t-shirt hangs loose and I get a peek at the good old ironing board stomach I used to have. Now, though, it looks more like someone forgot to iron the sheets. You know, a few creases here and there, and some wrinkles that refuse to smooth out no matter how much I stretch. But that’s okay! Every wrinkle tells a story, and mine have many to tell.

But hey, I’m grateful! I’ve got a body that works, legs that move, and even if they’re rounder in places, I still love them. My old pants, on the other hand, are struggling to hold onto that love—the buttons are like two long-lost lovers, kept apart by strict parental rules. But in the end, love triumphs, right? They are on their way to new homes.

So, as I swap my hardcore gym days for a more zen yoga practice, I feel strong, flexible, and energetically open. Verna and I even have a little fun with the aging process. We’ve renamed the classic yoga pose “Utthita Hasta” to something a little more fitting in Afrikaans: “Ou Tieta Hang Daar” (Old Tits Hanging There). And you know what? We laugh every time.

Aging isn’t so bad when you can laugh about it! I’m grateful for what I have. My body functions well, and I do my best to treat it with the love and respect it deserves. I often think of the saying, “My body is a temple,” and it truly is—a temple filled with miraculous wonders happening every second. It’s a harmonious dance between about 28 trillion cells, all working together like a perfectly choreographed miracle. And really, who wouldn’t cherish that beautiful journey?

Stay blessed on your journey

Written by: Laresa Perlman

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