A MessengerWoman's Tropical Vacation Trauma!

Every year I count the weeks until we leave for Hawaii, and every year the clock ticks away adding another 365 days to my age. I wish I could say getting older doesn’t bother me, but it does. I don’t like the sagging skin, the bulges around the middle, or the varicose veins popping up where they never appeared before. The emphasis in our society on youth and having the perfect body has affected me. Last year I had time to get in shape before we left for Hawaii. After years of coaxing (a pleasant way to say, “harassing”), my husband convinced me to join a workout facility.

A woman with the body of Barbie took me on the tour. As she showed me the women’s locker room with the jacuzzi, sauna and steam room I got excited. It was beautiful. I thought, this just might be like a resort vacation and maybe I can look like some of the gorgeous women I see. Well maybe, not quite, ‘cause they’re probably only thirty-five.

Barbie took me to the workout area and showed me all the equipment. It seemed like everyone was a jock. I felt intimidated. As I looked around at everyone exercising, their bodies were glistening. Oh yuk! They are all sweating.

I was entitled to one free session with a physical trainer so I made an appointment for the following week. Arriving in my stylish black work-out clothes, I hoped I might get the good-looking trainer. Yup I think he’s walking over to me. A tall muscular guy introduced himself to me. Wow, he looks like a Greek god. Hmm, I just might like this place. As he showed me the weight-training equipment he began to look less like the Greek god and more like Godzilla. He pushed me over the edge when he said I could some day lift my own weight. I almost yelled in his face. Are you crazy, why would I want to do that at age 60! I just want to lose a few pounds, not become a body builder.

As I went back to the spa area I laughed to myself, I’ll just stick to exercising my feet with pedicures, my hands with manicures and my face with facials. This workout torture was not for me, but I promised myself I would walk regularly and do lighter workouts.

With vacation only a few weeks away, it was silly to think I would lose the weight. It’s strange how last summer’s clothes have a tendency to shrink in the closet over the winter. Having been a fashion consultant I knew the perfect wardrobe could camouflage almost any flaw, so out the door I went to shop ‘til I drop.

I hit the stores with a vengeance. My greatest challenge: finding the ideal bathing suit to make me look fifteen pounds lighter and ten years younger. However, over the years designers first shortened the suit from the bottom, then the top and finally from the middle. Now there are no sides or back.

Opening the door to the shop, I saw it. “The Wonder Body Suit!” My eyes feasted on the lovely shade of purple and exquisite lines. I grabbed it off the rack and headed toward the dressing room where I tugged, pulled and squeezed for ten minutes. I felt like I was in some sort harness or medieval torture device. The material was so thick I figured I would sweat to death on the beach or the spandex would snap and my left cheek would burst forth. The only “Wonder” was that I was able to get it off! I hung up the suit, deciding last year’s black bathing suit looked better than ever.

One last item was the cover up. Not a bathing suit cover up but a varicose vein cover up. Those blue bumpy lines have haunted me for years. After using the best sunless tanning lotion on the market, my legs had a beautiful tan but so did the bathroom carpet. This did not add to the décor of our bathroom.

At last, the day came and we arrived in Hawaii. As we walked to our room I heard the roar of the ocean, saw the waves splashing on the beach, and smelled the fragrance of the plumerias.

Suddenly it didn’t matter how old I was or how I looked. All that mattered was the beauty of God’s creation. I thanked Him for my health and the ability to travel. Perhaps the number of years we’ve lived isn’t as important as how we have lived those years. Maybe age is like a pant size. It’s just a number and really doesn’t really mean a thing. I was determined not to let myself become preoccupied with the aging process but to laugh, throw my shoulders back and head for the beach relishing the gift of a tropical vacation.

Share YOUR summer story with us by posting a comment below! Let's laugh together...

KathieWilliams 910 Corriente Pointe Dr
Redwood Shores, 94065
650-595-1252
kathieaw@yahoo.com