Sexy at Fifty-Six: Skinny Dipping at the Break of Dawn

Sexy at Fifty-Six is the knowledge almost everything is out of my hands. There is only so much I can control. I control the thermostat. I control the timer on my electric tea pot. I have complete control over my music playlist. I can decide what is for supper. The richness of my morning coffee, and the perfect tan of my toast. I cannot always control when I get to eat, because, life happens.

Sexy at fifty-six is giving myself acceptance to sitting down. Take the phone call from a long-lost friend and sit to listen to their story. Sit and watch the chickens run in the barnyard. Sit and stare off into the abyss while I wait for my coffee to perk. I will sit down and eat lunch for a change instead of grabbing a bite here and there while on the go. There should be no shame when you play three or four rounds of Solitaire while nibbling a grilled cheese on sourdough. I like to play games. It keeps me sharp.

It is sexy at fifty-six when you are doing something you want to do and enjoy. There will be no wasted minutes or idle time spent doing nothing. I count every minute like a miser counts pennies. Careful not to waste a precious second. Time is limited and there are so many experiences out there just for the taking. I am going to be greedy and grab them all.

The sexiness of fifty-six is the realization there will be more mountains to climb. New foods to taste. Sipping whiskey under the stars. Laughter that rings to the heavens. Late nights dancing in summer’s heavy air with the waxing moon close enough to touch. Skinny dipping early enough in morning to witness the virgin lights of a new day brighten the horizon. Now what could be sexier than that?

Looking at yourself in the mirror at fifty-six is sexy. I have just started recently to look at myself again while naked. No judgment, just acceptance. This body is nothing like it once was; it is better. I have birthed two of the most amazing human beings on the planet. This body nourished them. This body has been picked and prodded, cut opened numerous times and stitched back together again. After all these years, she keeps going.

Sexy is being fifty-six and not having all the answers. The path to fifty-seven holds the mysteries of what is yet to come and answers to the questions yet to ask. So much can happen in a year. Sexy is just rolling with it and letting it all unfold, because sexy at fifty-six is the knowledge almost everything is out of my hands anyway. I might as well be doing something I enjoy, take time for rest, and believing I am beautiful. Sexy at fifty-six is knowing there will come a time for skinny dipping at the break of dawn.