Gravity is the enemy, and the insistent lover constantly pulling us towards her, leaving her mark on all of us as her husband, Father Time sits by her side laughing. We beg for more time and less gravity because we are vain and foolish. There is no escape from either. All we can do is hope our genes will work in our favor, watch where we’re going and stay out of the sun.
To feel the effects of gravity you could return from outer space, or swim several times a week in a pool chlorinated with salt rather than chemical chlorine. You haul your ass out of the water walking up the steps at the corner of the pool and feel the buoyancy of the water release you to the pull of gravity inch by inch. In the water, I feel weightless and free, and as I emerge I feel every pound of flesh pulling against my skeleton and I curse.
Aging is the comedy we all get to star in, nature the supporting (or not) cast. I envision gravity as an old toothless crone sitting in a rocking chair laughing her ass off at all of us, young, old and everyone in between. When my daughter was a baby she fell down all the time. I would watch her thinking if I fell down that much I would be so depressed, but it was normal for her, and she was falling a short distance with about 20 lbs dragging her down. Quite a difference from an adult falling.
When our daughters were little, my friend Lynn and I spent Sunday afternoons freezing at the ice rink while we waited for the girls to finish their skating lessons. I can’t recall whose idea it was, but we decided rather than sitting we should take skating lessons too. Both of knew how to skate, but we figured lessons might teach us some cool tricks. I’m sure you’re already laughing—pace yourself. For some reason, the lessons for adults were the same as the ones for the kids. I have nom idea why anyone would find it necessary at our age to learn how to skate
For some reason, the lessons for adults were the same as the ones for the kids. I have no idea why anyone would find it necessary at our age to learn to skate backwards on one foot, but that was what we were learning or trying to. One Sunday Lynn fell and broke her wrist, and the following week I fell and hit my head on the ice, and got so spooked that it ended my skating career. Gravity.
As I age I hear more stories of people falling and breaking hips or arms which often have a permanent effect. One of the few benefits of being overweight is that I am much less susceptible to osteoporosis; everything I do is weight bearing. I also have the sort of Russian peasant build that makes me sturdier than frail, delicate women. If I fall, I fall harder, but I have both the muscle structure and padding that may make it less dangerous. That said, I’d rather not test it out.
Perhaps you’re not fighting quite as hard with gravity as I am. Maybe you are so trim and toned you haven’t seen anything drop or droop. If so I’ll try not to resent you, but either way, gravity is coming for you, unless you spend the rest of your life in space or the pool.