When I was in my teens and twenties, 40-year-olds seemed ancient to me. These were the men who clipped their nose hairs and proudly loosened their belts after a big meal, and the crafty women who wore frosted, sensible hairstyles and learned to latch-hook cute rugs for the bathroom. Of course today’s 40 is the new 30, so I don’t have to worry about updating my bathroom just yet, but I still have plenty of other issues to contend with I never even dreamed existed. Why didn’t anyone ever tell me about:
- Skin tags…tiny pieces of protruding flesh that just dangle off my side.
- Age spots…no longer can I refer to them as “freckles” now that they are the size of dimes.
- Creaking limbs…gone is the ability to sneak to the kitchen for the last piece of pie as my popping joints give me away every time.
And those issues are just the beginning…I mean, really, what’s the benefit of using the now-necessary reading glasses (to check the directions on my fiber supplement) if I can’t even remember where I put them?
So while I’m now considered a thirty-something woman living in a forty-something body, I am not looking forward to discovering what comes next (or goes next, at this rate). I just know I will not, under any circumstances, visit the craft store anytime soon.