Will you still love me if I get an apron?
“Will you still love me if I get an apron”? This was a question I called my daughter to ask one night at 11pm. For some reason, it became an important topic that night as I was watching reruns of SVU. I was pretty sure I knew the answer. After laughing at my question, she said, “Mom you won’t get an apron"! She is always good at reassuring me, just like I did when she and her brothers were little and worried about something.
Getting an apron is high on my list of feared things as I get older, second only to getting a “helmet haircut”. I keep my hair long because helmet hair is usually a term used for a short hair cut. I keep running and eat pretty well in hopes of avoiding the apron. Once in a while I do yoga.
What is this apron? There is a medical term for it: a pannis. I don't know where it came from. It probably is a Latin term for "overhang". As a young student nurse, I vividly remembered the apron areas on older ladies. This was the area where their extra abdominal skin flopped over and hung down sadly towards their genital area – (due to gravity, a lack of estrogen, childbirth, or obesity). We had to scrub underneath that flap of skin to prevent yeast infections and to wash out or at least locate lost things, like little lost children, skeins of yarn or a single sock or glove (okay so that is an exaggeration). We also liberally sprinkled baby powder there to decrease the irritation and redness. I thought it funny how one started out with baby powder and ended with it. Maybe this is part of the dust to dust saying? Baby powder to baby powder. Anyway I had noticed of late, that I had some of this extra skin that was heading downward. Maybe I was gaining a little bit of weight but I blamed the hysterectomy. I had some missing internal parts and this made the skin even looser than it would be at my age after three kids. I found myself wishing the doctor could have put in something to fill that space – but what? Oreo cookies like in my calves (see previous post)? Cotton perhaps? I had a friend who had a plastic surgeon remove her apron during her hysterectomy, which I wish I would have thought of. I could do the same thing, I suppose if I wanted to pay $5000-$10000 and have to quit running for a month. But would it matter after all? I don’t think I would ever wear midriff running tops or bikinis so why should I care if my stomach isn’t pretty?
Our perceptions change as we get older. One day I realized I didn’t have to nor could I have the body of a 24 year old. I am 53 for God’s sake! And actually, I think I look pretty good! Our perceptions of our families change as well. My sister has green and yellow hair during the packer season and during the Cub’s baseball season; it might be Orange and blue. When I was in my 20’s I would have noticed other people looking at her and making unkind comments. Maybe I would have made them myself. Now I find I am proud of her and wish I felt more comfortable in my own skin. Maybe I should not dwell so much on my apron. My sister, I am sure, has one and never thinks about it. She is the kindest person I know in the entire world. “She would have made a good mother”, my daughter commented. And my daughter is right.
In the end, perhaps the question should be, "Will I love myself if I get an apron"? And yes, I will. That really should be the least of my worries. I can still run with an apron. And if I choose helmet hair, I can run with that, too.
Getting an apron is high on my list of feared things as I get older, second only to getting a “helmet haircut”. I keep my hair long because helmet hair is usually a term used for a short hair cut. I keep running and eat pretty well in hopes of avoiding the apron. Once in a while I do yoga.
What is this apron? There is a medical term for it: a pannis. I don't know where it came from. It probably is a Latin term for "overhang". As a young student nurse, I vividly remembered the apron areas on older ladies. This was the area where their extra abdominal skin flopped over and hung down sadly towards their genital area – (due to gravity, a lack of estrogen, childbirth, or obesity). We had to scrub underneath that flap of skin to prevent yeast infections and to wash out or at least locate lost things, like little lost children, skeins of yarn or a single sock or glove (okay so that is an exaggeration). We also liberally sprinkled baby powder there to decrease the irritation and redness. I thought it funny how one started out with baby powder and ended with it. Maybe this is part of the dust to dust saying? Baby powder to baby powder. Anyway I had noticed of late, that I had some of this extra skin that was heading downward. Maybe I was gaining a little bit of weight but I blamed the hysterectomy. I had some missing internal parts and this made the skin even looser than it would be at my age after three kids. I found myself wishing the doctor could have put in something to fill that space – but what? Oreo cookies like in my calves (see previous post)? Cotton perhaps? I had a friend who had a plastic surgeon remove her apron during her hysterectomy, which I wish I would have thought of. I could do the same thing, I suppose if I wanted to pay $5000-$10000 and have to quit running for a month. But would it matter after all? I don’t think I would ever wear midriff running tops or bikinis so why should I care if my stomach isn’t pretty?
Our perceptions change as we get older. One day I realized I didn’t have to nor could I have the body of a 24 year old. I am 53 for God’s sake! And actually, I think I look pretty good! Our perceptions of our families change as well. My sister has green and yellow hair during the packer season and during the Cub’s baseball season; it might be Orange and blue. When I was in my 20’s I would have noticed other people looking at her and making unkind comments. Maybe I would have made them myself. Now I find I am proud of her and wish I felt more comfortable in my own skin. Maybe I should not dwell so much on my apron. My sister, I am sure, has one and never thinks about it. She is the kindest person I know in the entire world. “She would have made a good mother”, my daughter commented. And my daughter is right.
In the end, perhaps the question should be, "Will I love myself if I get an apron"? And yes, I will. That really should be the least of my worries. I can still run with an apron. And if I choose helmet hair, I can run with that, too.
Comments