This is a derogatory statement. It never used to be.
My life has plateaued, my boobs are now a wardrobe hazard and my face is unrecognizable to me.
We went over to Paso Robles last weekend and stayed overnight at a little guest cottage in the vineyards. The temperatures plummeted and my family and I all remarked how ill prepared we were for the freezing temperatures, both physically and mentally.
We like to get the biggest bang for our buck so we cram an insane amount of engagements into a very little period of time while we're in town. Then we race to the finish before we all collapse into a flaming pile of screaming crying temper tantrum babies. and as it turns out, we end up paying for our jam-packed weekend in the form of illness, whining and sleepless nights for exactly 5 days afterward. Do not try this at home. We are professionals.
Did I mention I'm aging? It happened all of a sudden. The day I turned 30 I began categorizing this development as a negative. Before this day, the word "older" arrived with privileges like driving, buying cigarettes and beer, gaining enough respect to sit at the adult table. And then, the year after I turned 30 I acquired battle wounds from my pregnancy (in unmentionable areas). I got hangovers for days instead of hours. I lost every ounce of baby fat I ever owned, which left me gaunt and sagging, accentuating the tired, drooping eyelids below my furrowed brow. I'm a day-old balloon, deflated, wrinkled, and limp.
And last weekend, I looked in the mirror and GASPED!!!! I was not in my own bathroom at my home, this was not the lighting I used every day before I went out in public. This cottage had a bathroom streaming with natural sunlight, and there, on my face, in the corners of my upper lip were tiny brown hairs! A whole colony of ten or so on each corner!!! I had a handlebar mustache.
"JOHN!!!! Jooohhhnnn!!!!! How did you let me go out in public like this?????" I shrieked.
He, of course, squinted his eyes at me, focusing in on my upper lip before asking, "Where?" like he couldn't see anything.
Yeah right!!! You might as well call me Frieda!!!
OMG I've been walking around in PUBLIC with a mustache.
All I could think about was the new budget I needed to make for facial hair removal. I already have one for pedicures because painting my own toenails is not as easy these days. I just started one for dying my hair-thank god that hasn't gone gray yet because I'm pretty sure I'd have cardiac arrest if I found a gray hair on the same day I discovered I'd grown a mustache.
I'm aging. And it sucks.