Old pictures are dangerous. Old pictures show the progression from that April to May to June, getting skinnier and skinnier and skinnier. Old pictures show faces thinning, waistlines receding. Old pictures show baggy jeans with thighs a mile apart, legs so skinny he said he could wrap his hands around them. Old pictures show memories of a time you think of as “when you used to be beautiful.”
Old pictures are dangerous.
Old pictures bring up regrets and longings and unconcluded failures – of what, you’re not really sure. It’s hard to know these days, what the achievement was and what was the stopping. Which way means giving in and what kind of boundaries you’re supposed to fit your life into. There are no easy answers these days. Not when life’s gotten this complicated.
It all used to be so simple.
There were rules, and you followed them. There were don’t’s, and you abhorred them. Body, mind, and soul, you had your purpose.
Being skinny was just a side effect.
But then again, in those days, so was dying.
Still, it would have been simpler. But being happy – that one’s harder.