Tomorrow I have a birthday. Kind of a big one.
I'll be forty. Four. Oh. FORTY. Forty. forty.
It's kind of weird. In my head, I am still about, oh, 28. But daily, my body sneers In your dreams, old lady!
Just a few of the charming ways I am reminded that I am no where near 28:
- Hello, my name is Missy, and I've had bunion surgery.
- My cute little Lisa Loeb glasses went from being an occasional cute accessory to a full time necessity (this aggravates me no end)
- The weight goes on so much quicker and comes off soooooo much slower.
- The gray - oh, the gray. All those "baby bangs" I lost came back in a fabulous new shade of Old Mare.
- If I lie down on the floor with the kids, it flat out hurts to get back up. And occasionally even takes a coffee table heft. And sometimes I groan just a little.
- Hair grows in abundance where hair should not be growing. (A note to my children: if I am ever clueless in a nursing home and you don't take a tweezer to my chin, you are out of the will.)
- I have always been a ditz, but I have graduated to a whole new level of bimbo. Walker and my mom are constantly saying, "You just don't listen." I do listen, y'all. I just don't retain information anymore.
- My new fragrance: Eau de Ben Gay
- And the final indignity: when I cross my legs, sometimes - not always, dangit, but sometimes - I have to pull up my leg by my ankle.
Because my brain is still convinced I am 28, I have this illusion that I can still run up to the store in sweats without any makeup on and not offend anyone's eyes. Until I catch a glimpse of my own self in a mirror and am aghast at the frumpy forty year old woman staring back at me.
So, here I am, hobbling into a new decade.
My twenties were so tumultuous, I was glad to kick them to the curb. My thirties have been pretty wonderful. They say Forty is Fabulous. We shall soon see.
Have you had a favorite age? What was it and why?