Yeah, yeah. That’s what all old people say.
And, I’m now one of them.
But, that saying really does ring true. As a youngun, I didn’t understand that and thought that old people were just old and out of touch.
But, now, I’m like … “EXCUSE ME.” I know what’s up.
Ask my daughters. They’ll probably roll their eyes and sarcastically say, “yeah, sure, she’s cool.”
But, whatever. What do they know? Look at how young they are!! We all know they don’t know anything.
I honestly forget about how old I am. I really stopped counting once I hit 40. Who cares now?
I love who I am after 40. I know way more about myself and about life. As afar as how I feel emotionally & mentally … I feel secure and confident … um … most of the time. If there’s a time I don’t, I kick myself and say, “shut up!” Then, I repeat the words of Stuart Smalley:
There. Problem solved.
Internally, I’m doing pretty good. Just like most not-far-from-40-year-olds (I think I’m gonna be 42, not sure.)
Now, about my looks …
I don’t think I look THAT bad for my age. I have wrinkles. I feel a little chubby. My hair is a lot thinner than it was in the eighties (I had gorgeous BIG hair).
Honestly, the thing that shows my age the most: my hands.
They’re like the crypt keeper. Think I’m kidding? I’ll show you.
Veiny, bony, wrinkly.
I could be the Wicked Witch of the West’s hand double: “I’ll get you my pretty and your little dog too!”
Ah, well … c’est la vie.
Don’t mess with me or I’ll grab you with my creepy, veiny hand!
Oh, and there’s the issue of those beloved chicken wings! You know the ones … the wings that flap in the wind any time you’d like to be friendly and wave at someone. I’ve given up waving due to this very fact. So, don’t think I’m unfriendly. I’m just preventing flapping away in the wind.
And, running doesn’t help these wings to stay in place. Flappity, flap, flap.
I think those are the main things related to age. I’m sure there are a few minor things, like the ability to not see … yep … not see far (which I’ve had forever) and not see close now. Awesome. Thank God I have good friends that read stuff to me.
The newest age-related body issue is the creaking in the middle of the night. I, as with most people my age, must get up to use the bathroom once a night. Ugh. Hate that too. When I rise out of the bed, I creak with every step. Crack, crack, crack, pop, pop, pop … all the way to the bathroom and back. It’s the knees. Creaky, old-lady knees.
OK. I was super excited about how great I felt at my age at the beginning of this post, and have since become depressed. Stupid forties … I love and hate you!
Happy Birthday to me tomorrow.
What will I be doing to celebrate this day? … you ask.
Going to work.
Then, I’ll be spending the rest of the week preparing for La Petite Belle’s 13th birthday party on Friday. Hooray for having a kid on your very own birthday week.
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