It’s no secret that I’m over 40. Although since I live in Los Angeles, and I’m married to The Man who’s married to The Industry, maybe I should have stopped aging at 30. Yeah, a nice even number. That’s a believable lie, right?
FINE. I can’t lie about it now. But I CAN tell you all the reasons why it sucks giant, hairy and sweaty donkey balls, now can’t I?!
The photo below shows me being a hot mess….literally. Holding a beer, my phone, and my wallet all in one hand, while using the other to shoo a bug out from under my niece’s wedding dress. Yes, that really happened. Anyway, this photo is relevant because it was during this particular plantation wedding weekend that I began to really start hating the downside of 40, and the approach of…FORTY-ONE. The look on my face says it all, doesn’t it? Not sure if I laughed or cried next. Could have been either. Seriously.
She really had a bug under her dress!
Over the past 6 months, things have begun to CHAAAANGE. Normally I’m delighted to welcome change with open arms. However, there are a few key players in my physiological make-up that were just fine the way they were….when I was 35, 30, 20. Which brings me to:
10 Things I Hate About 41
- I’m not 40 anymore. Yes, I actually enjoyed being 40. Something about that milestone birthday is attractive. Just like turning 18, then 21, followed by 30, 35 and FORTY. It’s the last best milestone, I think. Now, I’m just 41.
- Phantom aches & pains—in my back, in my hip, in my big toe or my eyeballs—I could go on forever. Hello? My bones are old. I know. I know. But I really do not enjoy being reminded.
- My hair is falling out— For God’s sake, my hair was my best asset FOR YEARS, and now it’s thinning. I actually broke down and bought some of that ‘AGE DEFY’ shampoo and conditioner that I never even knew existed, until now. I’ve always had great hair, like the Pantene girls! Now I am fully expecting to wake up one morning, rise from my bed, only to discover that all my hair is still lying on the pillow. Or worse, have it slip through my hands and down the drain while I’m washing it. I’m having HORROR HAIR FLASHES to accompany the other flashes (See #4).
- One minute I’m freezing, the next I am burning up– Hot flashes my foot. These are like nuclear meltdowns, causing a chain reaction of unpleasantness. Then, in seconds, I’m so cold my teeth are chattering, and I’m walking around wearing my bathrobe on top of my clothes. Even Mother Nature can’t keep up with the internal seasons I’ve got going on. Of course it doesn’t help when The Man says “You’re going through The Change“. Thanks, buddy. I’ll show you change.
- I’m thirsty all the time — I’ve never been one to consume a lot of liquids. Not a conscious choice, I just don’t get thirsty. Well, I am now apparently making up for all the years I forgot to drink. Just great.
- Incontinence – To be fair, I’ve always had a somewhat weak bladder. I used to pee when I laughed in high school. Of course, childbirth times 3 made it much worse, and now…well…because of #5 above, I HAVE TO PEE CONSTANTLY. Go figure. Perhaps I can be a spokesmodel for Depends, just like Lisa Rinna. Whaddaya think?
- Young people refer to me as “Mrs” or “ma’am”– Being from the South, I appreciate the reverence. But at the same time, it makes me want to punch the teenaged cashier at Von’s right in the face when she says “Here you go ma’am” as she hands my ID back after she cards me. Brighten my day by asking for my ID, and then burst the balloon by calling me ‘ma’am’. FINE. Be that way. You’ll be old one day.
- My eyesight is getting worse–as if THAT were possible, right? I mean, I already have something stupid called Adie’s pupil–my right one is permanently blown–so it makes me look like Marilyn Manson, in bright light. Right one blown, left one pinpoint. Most of the time, if people actually look into my eyes and notice, they want to know what kind of cool psychedelic drugs I’ve dropped. It’s very entertaining. That problem aside, I can’t see anything now.
- What short-term memory?–Sometimes, I feel like Dory in Finding Nemo. I’ll walk through my house from one room to another, on a mission, and by the time I get there, I stand in the middle of the room wondering what the hell I’m doing there. On occasion, I’ve retraced my steps in an effort to jog my memory. Almost never works. So I guess it’s really true….I gave a 1/4 of my brain cells to each of my children. Thank God we stopped at 3. Otherwise, I’d be a vegetable. Oh, joy!
- Sahara– This is what I have nicknamed my nether region, because of the dryness. Seriously, I am expecting The Man to saddle up on a camel the next time he wants to take a ride. All the while, I’m thinking “Hey…Eve…I hope that fruit was damn tasty!”
I just have one last thing to say. When I finally kick it, please bury me upside down, so Aunt Flow and her groupies, Bald and Blind, can kiss my tired, old, forgetful ass, will ya?
This post was originally published at The Calibama Mom.
You must be logged in to leave a reply. Login »