It’s not that changing one’s basics is always impossible at a late age, but we have to be realistic and admit we will probably go on being what we’ve always been. And then there are the attributes we can’t change, like body parts and organs. (Granted, modern medicine makes almost anything possible, but I'm not sure I'd take the risk.)
So I play the game of “If I’m reincarnated, here’s how I’d like to come back…” This is assuming I’d still be a Jewish girl from Chicago. Here’s my wish list:
- Thin thighs—not too thin but pleasingly curvy
- Thick, straight, shiny hair that’s easy to style, doesn’t frizz in hot and wet weather, and looks great windblown
- A passion for sports or at least an appreciation of football, baseball, and basketball so I can watch games with the in crowd and enjoy Super Bowl Sunday parties
- Organization skills...not to be scary organized, like someone who alphabetizes items in their medicine cabinet, but able to stay on top of bills, appointments, and deadlines with ease
- A little more of me on top and less on the bottom. Now that I know that being pear-shaped is healthier than being apple-shaped, I'm more appreciative of what I've got. But can I request hourglass-shaped?
- Much less concern about wrinkles. Not the ones that are slowly making their appearance on my face and neck—and arms. Clothing wrinkles. I refuse to travel with linen and choose everyday items based on the material (wrinkle-free, packable, patterned so wrinkles won't show, or ruffled or otherwise textured so wrinkles don't have a place to land). I worry about how I'm sitting before I get to a party. Heaven forbid I walk in with big creases on my lap and backside. I will give myself credit, however, for not giving wrinkles a thought once I arrive. It's just the prep that has me in a neurotic grip.
And here's a disclaimer: I'm really quite satisfied with who I am, most of the time. But it's great fun to think about this. I can even work on these wishes to get closer to my ideal. Except one: I'll never love sports.