Close your eyes.
Picture a lady, hunched over. She has one hand on her lower back and a permanent grimace on her face. She walks with lurching steps, stopping to sit every chance she gets. If she must stand for long, she leans heavily on counters and against walls.
Now picture she’s asked to sew something. Some little thing, perhaps for a kid. (A demanding kid.) She peers at the thread and changes the needle for one with a bigger hole. She holds the needle at arm's length, squinting at it. She brings it in closer. She holds the needle and thread against the dark wood of a cabinet so she can see them. She tries, unsuccessfully, to thread the needle with poorly aimed stabs before she just gives up.
Now open your eyes.
Can you believe I just described a 43 year old woman? A woman who, until recently, was up to any physical challenge that didn’t involve heights? A woman who scoffs at offers of help carrying things and takes out the trash and DOESN’T HAVE TIME TO BE OLD??? Well, neither can I. My ruptured disc is mad about something and my contacts aren’t working and I just aged thirty years in 24 hours.
However, the good news is that I’m not really old, and I’ll feel better in a few days.
But I still won’t really know how to sew.