The Beautiful Truth About My Wife’s Aging

On the eve of my wife’s 45th birthday we spoke about her aging beauty.

She – I have developed so many wrinkles on my face. I look ugly, don’t I?

I – I appreciate those wrinkles. They are formed majestically over the years from the innumerable smiles you gave me when I was depressed, dejected and down. You heartily laughed at my stale jokes just to make me feel good. I love those wrinkles.

She – See, my eyes look swollen. Oh… There are even wrinkles around my eyes… Dark circles below…

I – Aren’t they lovely? Don’t you remember you used to stay awake when I worked late shifts and came home late? And the long nights you had spent nursing the children till they grew up? What about when you sat beside my pillow and placed a wet handkerchief on my forehead? You used to check my fever every three hours and administer medicine. Did you forget? And your innocent eyes only had sliced my heart in half the first time I saw you…

She – Look… Grey hair… Growing in leaps and bounds… Get me hair dye tomorrow… Dark brown… or burgundy…

I – It looks so mature. Silky grey. Soft and bouncy. Black and white. How many times have I placed my hands around your waist and pulled you close just to put my head in that mane of yours and inhale that magical scent you ooze… and then press the lips at the back of your neck? Now you want me to smell the chemicals? No. Your hair is enchanting as it is. Let it be.

She – I am old now… Look… How my breasts are sagging…

I – Oh darling… They have selflessly given nourishment to our young ones. Remember you were adamant about breastfeeding and never wanted powdered milk for them. Sure they sag, so what? I like to fondle them.

She – Have you seen my belly lately? Protruding as though I am pregnant… I want a tummy tuck… skin color.

I – What about my beer belly? It now matches yours so why worry honey? Besides, have you seen those glossy mags selling women lingerie lately… Cosmopolitan, Maxim, Vogue, Elle and the others. Those models are fake dear… You are real. They are photo shopped images, computer created. Virtual. You are here, standing in front of me in flesh and blood. Real. I like your belly and the button on it.

She – Did you notice the varicose veins on my legs? They look like spiders all over. I can’t stand up for long… Knees pain… Get me those stockings first thing tomorrow.

I – Of course, love… I will. But you are forgetting how you walked alongside me for miles together when we even could not afford a bicycle. You never complained but kept flashing that irresistible smile and the journey became so joyful. You said you never felt pain when I was your companion. Water was so scarce. You drew it from the community well and carried it home. Didn’t you? And I never saw you being lazy. You were so quick and agile. Day in and day out you sacrificed so many things just to build the castle we now own.

She – Friends are avoiding me slowly. Aunt Flo stopped coming. She helped me maintain my elixir. I can’t ride the crimson tide anymore…

I – Yes… It was to happen. You treated her like a celebrity and she dumped you like a fan… hahaha.

She – But… Look I have lost all my curves…

I – This is a learning curve sweetie… I need you to love yourself as you are. Listen, stop comparing yourself to those fake models and pin-up girls. Become what women have been through all of history. What women have always known themselves to be. Remember the time before the internet. Before glossy magazines and before filmy heroines. When far fewer women hated their bodies and felt worthless instead women loved their bodies. Marilyn Monroe said:

”Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.”

I discover the beauty your imperfection carries. You are a human first and a woman later. You have real curves and real softness. The comfort I feel when I hug you. The goose bumps I feel when I touch your soft lips. Here, let me pull you into my arms and touch your earlobe with my lips and softly whisper those three magical words… Come…

And then she melts in my arms.