I’m so used to playing up my hourglass figure that when I don’t intentionally do the opposite – when I just wear clothes without planning for a shape – I don’t know what to expect of my own body.

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I adore everything about this outfit: the tights I just got on Ebay; the cardigan I’ve had for years and will never get rid of because you’ll have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands; the brand new dress that bounces fetchingly when I walk…and, of course, the shoes.  Because I always love the shoes.

When I saw this photo, though, I was unnerved.  Where was my well-defined waist?  Where was the eleven-inch difference between my navel and hips?  I wasn’t unhappy with the way my body looked, but I was kind of confused.

That feeling reminded me of the things I hear from older women whenever I talk about body acceptance.  They tell me that middle age is like puberty all over again: that your body begins changing in unexpected ways, and that the person in the mirror isn’t who you expect anymore.  The difference, they tell me, is that no one prepares you for middle age.

I remember my first period, and getting breasts, and leg hair, and full hips.  After twelve years of sameness, it was scary to not know what my body was going to become.  But I was prepared for those changes, by school and family and the media…how lost would I have felt if I hadn’t been?

So when I look at these photos…any photos…I try hard to be less unnerved, and more pleasantly surprised, at the different shapes my body makes depending on what I wear.  Because when I get older, I’m going to be dealing with new shapes underneath my clothes – ones that will continue to shift and sag each year.

I’d like to be proud of those shapes.  I’d like to love them.  So I’ll think of it as a second puberty: with a little trepidation…but also with excitement for change, for something new.

Besides, it’s not like I’ll have to give up cute shoes.  (Maybe just shorten the heels a little.)