I turned 49 years-old last Monday.
Somehow with preparations for the kid’s international trip,
my subsequent visit to my lovah and in between
raging about Delta Skelter Airlines,
I didn’t exactly allow myself to think about my birthday.
Last Sunday on the eve of the day, I was driving
North with Al and his daughter, chatting happily
and paying toll after stupid toll, when it hit me;
TOMORROW I’M GOING TO BE 49 YEARS OLD.
And I’m about as excited about it as the woman up there.
I mean, 49; that’s old. It’s not 40. I have a reasonable expectation to live to be 80. But my oldest living grandparent died at 74. So, I have little expectation to live to be 98. Officially, in any capacity, more than 1/2 of my life is gone. I know, I know, I’m lucky to have lived this long. None of us have any guarantees whatsoever in life. I’ve been pretty damn lucky to be this age.
But 49? That is ugly.
There is nothing a Wondermist can do or say about that one.
Also in the car was his daughter, who I’ve discovered is
a 15 year-old Wondermist Jr.
She did make me feel slightly better.
She said “You look young! Dad looks waaay older than you!”
(I’m going to buy her some presents when I have money. )
Of course, Al doesn’t look way older than me. It is just the gray hair.
His face is beautifully wrinkle free.
Mine on the other hand could use some work.
I have these worry lines about my eyes from my constant scowl.
Yep. See them?
Many of my friends that are my age have
been doing Botox for years.
They don’t have that permanent scowl anymore.
But I have always thought that my biggest physical defect was not
my face, but the size of my ass.
That is still a work in progress.
I had made the decision a good while ago that
my face came after my ass in the urgent department.
I have a friend who says that after 40 a woman has to decide
what to sacrifice: face or ass.
Because skinny women look older than heavier women do.
Fat is a great wrinkle filler.
And as my mom says, you can have a skinny ass and pay to get rid of your
face wrinkles but you will still have an old neck.
Although I am sure there are procedures to take care of that.
Anyway. Turning 40 didn’t bother me because I was pregnant
unexpectedly and I thought screw it I’m not old.
But 49 is bothering me.
Next year, if I’m not using a walker or dead,
I will just suck it up and plan a party or something.
Or maybe my ass will be in check and I will make a Botox appt.
As my Grandmother said when she was 60 and
started dating a much younger man,
“To hell with age!”
I’m 49 years old.