And I revel in it...My skin is saggy, a little loose,
and Mick Jagger and I have a lot in common....
I finally have a beer belly.
A pudge.
A little love handle, or two.
I can still suck it in, but rarely remember to.
I snore.
Loudly.
Or so I'm told.
And I'm my Nana's grandchild.
I can't see to put on make~up, and didn't wear it when I could.
I only date men who are as blind or half again as I am.
And in our blurred up, trailing world, where oak leaves are green smears in the sky, and clouds are marshmellows....
I'm beautiful.
Or so I'm told.
The music comes on and I shimmy.
I swirl.
I twirl.
I pretend I'm a barefooted ballerina making love to the Blues.
I'm 17 again....
barefooted,
and tipsy,
barely balanced on Chris's coffee table.
One day I'll fall off, and break a hip...
Break the magic...
But until then,
I'm old...
and
Loving it....
I believe in butterflies and beer.
