A Little Anecdote about Point of View
My mother, who is in her 80s, asks me if I think that her attire is inappropriate. She’s referring to her short (just above the elbow) sleeves. The humidity here is 88% and climbing; it feels like the Everglades, not the Great Lakes.
She had a fall almost 2 years ago. As a result of osteoporosis, she did more than break her right arm or wrist; she pulverized bones at either end of her forearm. 5 hours of surgery involving numerous pieces of metal have left the forearm, after 18 months of healing, ever so slightly curved, and scarred on the inside. You wouldn’t notice a thing unless you really looked very carefully at her, or unless she held her arms out and showed you.
In addition to holding traditional notions of propriety, my mother was (is) a beauty. Although she’s never gone on a single date since my father died decades ago, she’s very aware of her attractiveness, especially when it benefits her. She has never ‘looked her age’, and was for many years reverse-carded when claiming senior’s discounts.
“You know that you look much younger than your age.” I say. She smiles; when she was 50 she looked 30, and even now she makes a 15 year younger impression.
“Let’s say that your right forearm, only, now looks older than the rest of you.” I add. Bingo. Mother is delighted with this bit of reasoning and has ceased to be self conscious about her right forearm.
