My husband sometimes sang a song titled “Time has made a change in me.” Every time I hear it, I think how true those words are.

When I was young, I gave little thought to cure-alls for aching feet, vitamins to keep one healthy, potions and creams to maintain young looking skin, dishwashing liquid with an ingredient to prevent “rough, red, dishwater hands,” or instruments to improve one’s hearing.

Maybe I should have.

As the years raced by, something happened to the mirrors in my house and the clothes in my closet. Those mirrors are so out of whack. They place added pounds on my body. Something in that closet makes my clothes shrink. As I struggle to fit into some of my clothes, my waist totally disappears.

For years and years, I took only a minute or two to apply make-up to my face and put on my lipstick. These days my bathroom mirror plays tricks on me, too. No matter how much time I take dabbing concealer over my imperfections before I pat on make-up and apply lipstick, wrinkles keep appearing on my face in that mirror.

Too, my most treasured dress shoes feel as if they were bought for someone else. I’ve pushed them aside for “sensible shoes.” I think they look awful but they feel wonderful. I haven’t forgotten how many times I came home from work through the years with my feet feeling like bricks of burning flesh. An advertisement caught my eye in an almanac: “End the pain and misery of tired and aching feet,” it screamed in bold letters. “I already have,” I declared, as I flipped the page, ignoring the product the ad promoted.

A few pages past that I saw an advertisement for a product promising to get rid of stomach agony. It was complete with drawings of the kidney, liver and stomach and problems that confront them. Gotcha again, I thought, as I glanced over at the neat zipper bag containing all my prescriptions.

Then there was a hearing aid gimmick for a very cheap price. These days that just wouldn’t work for me, I sighed, fingering the electronic gadget hanging around my neck. It controls the volume of my hearing aids and connects them to my cell phone, land-line telephone and television set to help me hear them better. 

Years ago, my husband had a book-signing at the Lillian United Methodist Church, where he was the minister from 1981 until 1994. Several friends who came didn’t recognize me because my hair was black when we left there years ago. Of course, today it’s almost completely grey.

I think of my impressions when we attended my 50-year high school reunion. Everyone had changed. The boys I considered handsome during our school days were aging, ordinary-looking men. The prettiest girls had turned into mature women. Most had added a few pounds and some wrinkles on their faces.

Yes, I agree with the song. Time makes changes in us all.

Nina Keenam is a former newspaper reporter.