“My age”? Did I just hear him correctly? While it is no surprise that this mother hen is no longer a spring chicken, this still did give me a jolt of reality. It is true that I am getting older.
They say that 40 is the new 20, but I disagree & here is why.
At 20… I hoped & prayed not to get carded when I ordered a drink out. “Please, don’t ask for ID. Please don’t ask for ID.”
At 40…If I get asked for my license, I am so excited that I need to text everyone I ever met, update my Facebook status & Tweet about it after I finish doing a back flip.
At 20…I was called Miss
At 40..I am referred to as Ma’am like it is a dirty word.
At 20…My jeans were low rise & my breasts were up to my neck
At 40…My breasts are low rise & my jeans are up to my neck.
At 20…my nights out started at 10 o’clock.
At 40…my nights out end with me passed out on the couch by 10 o’clock with the Big Bang Theory playing in the background.
At 20…I slathered on a pound of make-up to try to cover a pin-head sized pimple & continued to try to block it with my hands all day.
At 40…I shamelessly display my crow’s feet, stretch marks, gray hairs & every other imperfection without blinking an eye.
At 20…I would drink all night & wake in the morning without a feeling hung-over.
At 40…I can wake up feeling hung-over when I haven’t had a drink in months.
At 20…My medicine cabinet held a few bottles of cheap nail polish & cosmetics.
At 40…It is filled with prescription medication & hemorrhoid cream.
At 20…A hot and sweaty night might mean that you had a good date.
At 40…It means your peri-menopausal.
At 20…You hope that you are never like your mother.
At 40…You realize you are your mother and proud of it.