I have never sought to be the center 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 vacation for us – a trip to the sea. We took a photo of me in a swimsuit hugging him. One of the sons posted this photo in the family chat, just out of love for us.
And then my daughter-in-law, the wife of my youngest son, reacted sharply.
“Wow, grandma decided to play at being young? And your body is wrinkled, it’s time to cover up! What will people think?” she wrote with a laughing smiley.
Many fell silent. Even my son, her husband, remained silent. Only the eldest wrote: “You went too far.”
I read this and felt a pain rise up inside me. But not because I was ashamed of myself. But because the young woman, my granddaughter’s mother, believes that as you get older you need to hide, disappear.
I didn’t answer that evening. But the next morning I decided to teach her a lesson and explain that you can’t talk to adults like that.
A week later, when we returned home, I organized a family dinner. I invited everyone: children, grandchildren, and, of course, my daughter-in-law.
I asked my husband to print out that very photo – big, black and white, in a frame – and put it right in the center of the table. When everyone was gathered, I stood up and said:
– Thank you for coming. Today I want to tell you what love looked like after 40 years of marriage. What a body looks like that gave birth to children, washed, cooked, did not sleep at night, worked two jobs and continues to love. Yes, I have wrinkles. Yes, I do not have a perfect body. But I am not ashamed of it. I am proud of it. And I am also proud that my husband looks at me the same way as on our wedding day.
Pause. Silence.
I turned my gaze to my daughter-in-law:
— But if someone thinks that love is only about smooth skin and the perfect swimsuit, maybe they should reconsider what they are teaching their daughters.
She lowered her eyes. She didn’t say a word. The whole evening passed calmly, but tensely.
Later, a few days later, she came to me. Without pathos. With a pie. And with apologies. She said that she understood. That she was ashamed. That she lacked an example of what real feelings look like with age.
