Women of a Certain Age

Posted on March 25, 2011

13


I remember back, many, many moons ago when being a woman of a certain age seemed like such a distant possibility that it was unreal. Now I am at that point in my life…you know the one…you climb out of bed and your boobs hit the floor the same time as your feet do.

You need the air conditioner AND an electric blanket just to be comfortable…

You don’t have to shave your legs as often as you are required to pluck your chin…

The topic of conversation with your best friend has shifted from “Man was I WASTED last night! I went HOME with __________” to “Remember that guy…the one I knew….yeah that one–saw him the other day and he was BALD!” or “I was up 15 times last night just to pee.” or maybe “Hey, do you remember the time…oh balderdash! What was it again?”

The point in life where you have returned to a training bra—to turn those damn setters into pointers…

Where wrinkles are no longer funny…and that promise you so blithely made about aging gracefully you broke months ago. Your husband should own STOCK in Clairol because you buy so much hair coloring.

I used to think I’d be dead before I hit that certain age—the one that begins the downhill roll at forty-something and suddenly the world that dragged on and on rushes by in a blur. Now I think of ways to avoid the Grim Reaper.

I’ve known best friend longer than my husband/children…If you doubled the years since graduation you MIGHT get the general area of how long we’ve been best friends.

My age and my dress size are in close proximity to each other…

I used to blare AC/DC and Ozzy Osbourne because I could…now I blare them because I HAVE to…

I have the wisdom of past mistakes—and no one willing to trust that I actually DO know what I’m talking about…

The girl in the mirror vanishes in the blink of an eye and suddenly an old person appears.

Then, I sit back and tell myself ‘Hey! You’re NOT that old! Honestly, you have yet to reach middle age!’ I almost have myself convinced until my phone rings and I hear “Hello Grandma.”

Of course there are benefits to being a woman of a certain age.

Sex—if the desire EVER arises—is no longer dampened by the fear of getting knocked up…

I can buy adult beverages when the need strikes….

I have the finesse to pull off those outrageous stunts AND the wisdom to render first aid when they don’t go according to plan…

I know all the words to the songs played by Muzak in the elevators…

I can rock and roll all night and party every day—and do it ALL before passing out at 10 p.m.

All in all I guess being a woman of a certain age isn’t all that horrid. It’s not like I’ve hit 60, yet

Huggles and hope you have a FABU weekend!
Donica

Advertisements