I have never sought to be the centre of attention. I am 63, I have raised two wonderful sons, and my husband and I have been together for over 40 years. This year he arranged a little holiday for us – a trip to the sea. We took a photo of me in my swimming costume hugging him. One of his sons posted this photo on the family chat room, just out of love for us.
And then my daughter-in-law, the younger son’s wife, reacted sharply.
“Wow, grandma decided to play young? And your body is wrinkled, time to cover up! What will people think?” she wrote with a laughing emoji.
A lot of people stopped talking. Even my son, her husband, remained silent. Only my eldest wrote, ‘You’re overreacting.’
I read that and felt a pain rise up inside. But not because I was ashamed of myself. It was because a young woman, the mother of my granddaughter, thinks that as you get older you should hide, disappear
I didn’t answer anything that night. But the next morning I decided to teach her a lesson and explain that you can’t talk to adults like that. 😢😢😢 Continued 👇👇
A week later, when we got home, I organised a family dinner. I invited everyone: children, grandchildren, and of course my sister-in-law.
I asked my husband to print out that very photo – a large, black and white, framed photo – and put it right in the centre of the table. When everyone was gathered, I stood up and said:
Thank you for coming. Today I want to tell you what love looks like after 40 years together. What does a body that has borne children, done laundry, cooked, stayed up nights, worked two jobs and continues to love look like. Yes, I have wrinkles. Yes, I don’t have a perfect body. But I’m not ashamed of it. I’m proud of it. And I’m also proud that my husband looks at me the way he did on our wedding day.
Pause. Silence.
I shifted my gaze to my sister-in-law:
But if someone thinks love is all about smooth skin and the perfect swimming costume, perhaps they should reconsider what they’re teaching their daughters.
She lowered her eyes. Didn’t say a word. The whole evening passed quietly, but tensely.
Later – a few days later – she came to see me. Without pathos. With a cake. And an apology. Said she understood. That it was embarrassing. That she lacked an example of what real feelings look like as you get older.
