Tried on a sleeveless linen dress yesterday to wear to theatre.

I saw a hanging chad in the mirror so in 80 degree weather I donned a denim jacket to cover my potentially grandma jiggly arms.

I looked great in my fuchsia dress with trendy designer sneakers (my feet looked maaavelous), but the realization that all my kettlebell and weight classes have not secured sculpted arms made me want to puke.

I ducked and sought cover instead of dealing with reality.

Now I probably need to evaluate a facelift and tummy tuck.

Aging gracefully is an unfulfilling, full time job.

Death is the alternative, but doing everything right and not seeing the results I work daily for makes me angry.

I guess I’ll have to only wear rash guard bathing suits or never go back into the water…just stay covered under an umbrella in my senior folding beach chair with the colorful cup holder, reading an actual printed newspaper.

The exhausting pain of vain reality.