Sixty-five years is a long time to live with anybody.
I have lived in the same body for 65 years, which seems like an absurdly obvious thing to say, but lately I’ve been thinking about what that actually means. There is nobody else I have known for every single one of those years. My body was there for every stupid decision, every good decision, every illness, every pleasure, every humiliation, every accomplishment, and every perfectly ordinary Tuesday when nothing particularly memorable happened at all.
This is my body now. It is fat. It is 65 years old. It has silver hair, wrinkles, a knee that is still pissed off about something that happened last December, and various other features and accessories acquired along the way. None of those things suddenly arrived with my 65th birthday, though. This isn’t a new body that replaced all the previous versions. It’s the same one I’ve had all along, and after this many years together, we have quite a history.
To read the full article, go to the Body of a Goddess Blog: https://krasbold.substack.com/p/my-body-and-i-have-a-history