I have a war going on inside me. 

I have posted before about my spiritual mind battle I deal with every day. That’s not what this is about.
The battle inside me is a physical one. 
A sixteen-year-old against a forty-six-year-old. I’m in-between there somewhere.
You say, “HUH?”
Let me explain.
The sixteen-year-old says … 
“You need a few zits on your face.”
While the forty-six-year-old says …
“How ’bout some fine lines around those eyes?”
Sixteen-year-old:
“Here’s your normal period.”
Forty-six-year-old:
“Let’s add some more weird, irregular, pre-menopausal stuff to your cycle. Just for fun … make sure you’re prepared every day for the unexpected.”
Sixteen-year-old:
“Your breasts are just fine. Don’t worry.”
Forty-six-year-old:
“I will require you to wear a bra at all times. No Exceptions!”
Sixteen-year-old:
“Don’t forget to shave your legs.”
Forty-six-year-old:
“Make sure you check every possible surface of this ol’ body for random hair growth. Bring your tweezers everywhere, especially the vehicle (only good lighting is there).”
Sixteen-year-old:
“The sit-ups are really working. Keep it up.”
Forty-six-year-old:
“Girl, you might as well give those sit-ups up. What a waste of time. That baby jelly belly is never going away. Just remember the phrase “tummy control” when shopping for undergarments.”
Sixteen-year-old:
“I am freezing.”
Forty-six-year-old:
“What are you trying to do … suffocate me? Throw those covers off, girl.”
Sixteen-year-old:
“You have got so much energy. You are fit and in shape.”
Forty-six-year-old:
“Are you trying to kill me? Just give up. It’s not worth it. I’m going to swell your knee up if you don’t stop. Just try me.”
I just hope that I am like Sally O’Malley when I’m 50.