When Gravity is Our Enemy

I woke up one morning and was twice the person I use to be!

"You're too thin," he had said to me. The doctor's words skipped down my spine and sent a thrill over my entire body!

"You can never be too thin or too rich." Hadn't I heard those words somewhere before?

A few years had passed, though, and multiple sclerosis, a hysterectomy, hormones and steroids, lack of exercise, age and food had taken its toll on my body. There I lay on the OBGYN's cold table, with a paper napkin the size of a newborn's bib covering essential parts.

"So how are you, Mrs. King?" my doctor asked.

What else could a doctor ask, walking into the room and finding a whale had been harpooned and dry-docked on his examining table?

"Well, doc, I'm twice the woman I use to be."

After a double take at the catch of the day, his response was, "That you are!"

I could have cried tears; I could have quit eating. But instead I prayed, "God show me the humor in life!"

Now, it is a proven fact: laughing burns more calories than crying. So it was I began to look for the humor in life.

Gravity soon became a big issue with me. The group of ladies I claim as friends had a big discussion one day.

"Your what has fallen?" I asked.

"You mean yours hasn't?" one of my friends responded.

"I don't know. I never noticed," I said.

That was the first conversation my girlfriends and I had about gravity. They were referring to my bottom-side. My friends are a few years older than I, and they had experienced the first of the "Big Pull."

"It's where it's always been, as far as I know." Neither my husband nor anyone else had mentioned seeing it in a different location, I insisted.

Why do people's questions seem to bring about reality?

I soon noticed my bottom-side creeping; I found myself having to adjust my underwear. Where in the Sam Hill was it headed? I wondered.

No sooner did I notice the fall than the spread occurred. I wish they had never mentioned this underside structural defect.

I began keeping a closer eye on the reflection staring at me in the mirror. That was my second mistake; the first was keeping company with my "older" girlfriends.

Soon I was buying uplifting bras. There was a conspiracy going on, I just knew it. But at least there were garments that could take care of that problem.

"Bill, does my chin look like I have two?" Must be this mirror playing tricks on me, I reasoned.

One day, I overheard someone speaking about how older women's knees sag. What? I couldn't believe that my whole body would one day be living somewhere around the South Pole.

After a few years, one of my best friends commented, "I just hate these jowls of mine."

"Jowls? What are jowls?" I asked.

"Oh, just something else gravity gets a hold of," she said nonchalantly.

"You girls can go there if you want, but I'm not moving any further south than I've already gone," I insisted.

"Apron? No, I never wear an Apron," I said in response to another comment.

"I don't mean an apron you wear in the kitchen, silly. I'm talking about stomachs seen hanging below shirts or blouses." That was another notion I didn't care to entertain.

"Not me!" I was adamant in my reply.

"Oh, just wait, your turn's coming," another of my friends chided.

"I'm not going to let myself go, not me, never." I was insistent.

"Betty, that's just part of getting older; your body just starts heading south and leaves you with all these wonderful souvenirs."

"No, thank you. I can do without such keepsakes!"

As the years are passing, though, it seems my body is too, right on down and out. My age is running a tight race trying to keep up with my girlfriends, and so is my body.

It seemed my younger days and their assets got up and went; I'm still searching their whereabouts.

I got up the other morning, took my shower and looked in the mirror; there wasn't much left above my knees. I think I'm going to have to find new friends; they've put a hex on me!

I am learning one thing, though: never say never. I fear someday I may wake up, stand up and find myself lying in a puddle somewhere down around my ankles.

I'm finding age can be depressing or funny – it's all in the attitude!

The above story is reprinted with the permission of Publish America, who previously published it in Betty King's third book, The Fragrance of Life. It is one in a collection of her newspaper columns.

When Gravity is Our Enemy

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