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I can remember my grandmother looking in the mirror at her eighty-something face and saying,"When did this happen?" I myself have learned from her example; I have perfected the art of staring directly into my eyes in the mirror and completely blocking out everything else.

Actually it is not so much an art as it is an act of self defense. I spent the early part of my fifth decade trying to erase the lines and bags that had appeared out of nowhere to sabotage my entire self image. I finally realized that that way lies madness and began to ignore the face someone had sneaked on me as much as possible.

I have been blessed with a pretty good metabolism and have maintained my weight with a minimum of effort and denial. However, I have developed a soft, watermelon-slice shaped belly that is really quite charming. I, needless to say, am not a swimmer and never go to the beach. Otherwise I might not be so accepting of this soft pillowy thing that has wrapped itself around my belly button and hooked itself to the hip on either side.

The main beef I have with advancing years is that my feet have developed unsightly and painful bunions. I still enjoy a good walk with the dogs and can get around without too much discomfort, for which I am duly grateful. But I can no longer wear the cowboy boots that were part of my very being for many years. Any sort of heel puts all my weight forward into that tender bunion area and all fashion sense goes by the wayside in a hurry.

Actually, now that I am really thinking about it, what I hate the most is that I can no longer see without glasses! Ick. I wore contacts for years and never, ever intended to wear glasses. But I had cataract surgery and here I am, wearing glasses for distance and glasses for reading and functioning sort of with no depth perception whatever. I can't see for beans without glasses and I am taking it very hard. It's a good thing I've had all that practice with the mirror because now I can do it with shop windows and shiny cars and - of course - with full-length mirrors in stores. I am fast becoming an invisible woman in my own eyes.

Of course, this is all physical maturity. I wish I could say that all these negatives were off-set by great emotional maturity and wisdom and sound judgement. I guess I am somewhat more mature that I was when I was flat-bellied and wrinkle-free. However, a lot of it can be set down to fewer invitations to get into trouble and to the fact that the slower I move, the less likely I am to leap.

Learn more about this author, Melissa Manning.
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