But the stroke has given rise to this once comic version of myself. Waistbands with buttons and zippers are just too fiddly. And my week ankle requires the stability of a flat, solid shoe. The stroke has speeded me toward that moment in all our lives when we realize we are no longer attractive in that particular way that might cause someone to take notice of us across a room.
I can see the upside to facing this moment a little early in life. There is no danger that I will become "mutton dressed as lamb." But more than that, there is the relief of stopping the pretense … of easing the unreasonable demands I made on my body: "Well, if I hold my belly in, these don't look so bad." Or, “I can wear these shoes if I don't have to walk too far."
Recently a friend helped me clean out my closet. Goodbye high-heeled shoes and strapless sandals! Goodbye 501 jeans with the button-up fly and the unforgiving waistband! From now on style will be sacrificed to convenience and comfort. Who knows what I might do with the space in my brain that I free from focusing on my own reflection?