I remember as a child, my mother asking me to thread needles for her because she couldn’t get the thread into the needle hole. I recall sometimes telling her “to just push the thread through”. No sympathy, no understanding. Last week I tried to thread a needle and I struggled to get it through the hole! Oh my gosh!!! How can?
How can I not just push the thread through the hole? What was easy peasy 35 years ago is has now a struggle because I could not see the hole clearly. For a few seconds that made me sad, not because my eye sight had aged but because I wish I had, as a teenager, been kinder to my mother. For a few seconds, I wished I could go back in time and thread her needles without complaining. I wished I had been more patient.
Though it took several attempts, I was able to thread my needle and sew the button that had fallen off my coat back on. I almost called out to my daughter for help. The fear of hearing the inevitable, “Can you not see the hole mum?” made me persevere. She would have (in blissful ignorance of how it feels), probably been as merciless as I was to my mother.
I don’t like to spend my spare time thinking about ageing. I like to use my spare time to focus my thoughts and energy on things that I have power over, things that I can control, manipulate, change.
That saying, genetics is something I think about sometimes. I feel that, if we let our bodies be, we will age just like our parents did. If we look at the ailments they suffer/suffered from, there is a strong chance that we will suffer from the same ailments if precautions are not taken. We can’t take preventative measures with everything but there are somethings we can.
Back to the reason for this blog, over the last 4 weeks, I’ve been forced to accept that my relationship with high heels is coming to an end and I’ve started looking for shoes with lower heels with great sadness. 😂 Nowadays, a couple of hours at a party in high heels requires a 2 week recovery period – it kills my knees, yet, I still wear the bloody things.
I had so far, (unwisely) refused to accept that my middle age story is going to be sans high heels. I’d wear heels and suffer afterwards. Crazy isn’t it?
Thinking about it now, Age might not be the reason why I now have to wear lower heels. I started having knee pain in my 20’s and as far as I can remember, my mother has always complained about her knees. Could weak knees be in my genes? I wonder….
So! Should I be sad over a frivolous thing like not being able to wear high heels? Shouldn’t I just be grateful that my legs are still functioning and settle for 2-3 inch heels?
Gratitude is what I feel most days, focusing on what’s there and not on what’s not there. But, when I’m getting dressed for a function, I’m not thinking of what’s there, I’m looking in the mirror thinking, “hmmmmm……higher heels would be perfect with this dress..”
Anyways, I could approach aging from 3 different angles,
1) Accept it as a given and age ungracefully i.e do nothing and let it all go downhill and fall apart.
2) Struggle to accept it and get depressed about it.
3) Accept it as a given and try to age gracefully i.e do my best NOT to let it all go downhill and fall apart.
I’ll take number 3. No ungraceful ageing for me. I’ll do all that is with my human power to keep my mind and body alive.
So, I got these shoes for work. I was looking for something low and versatile. I had briefly considered the trending brogue design but hesitated because it’s definitely not me. This has turned out to be a good choice and I’ve lost track of how many people have told me they like the shoes. They are sooooooo comfortable, I now wear them with EVERYTHING..
Okay, not everything but almost everything. 😉