*Old Me

Now that I’m in my 30’s, I’ve been forced to face the fact that I’m not the spry, limber teeny bopper I once was! I try daily to prove this wrong, but daily I am slapped with reality. When I was young, I danced, cheered and could do the splits on command! Oh, the fun I had at competitions and pep rallies! How cute I was with my teeny little skirt and boobs just the right size. Too bad those perfect body days are wasted on the teen years! I mean, no wrinkles, eyelids in the right place, and energy for days…..all wasted on teenagers. What are they supposed to do with that nice rack? I deserve those things now. I’m a little bitter I think. After all the hard work of growing as a person, having my own children and raising them with love and confidence, I get the thanks of wrinkles, low eyelids, boobs that are a likeness of a half deflated basketball, arthritis, and gray hairs (I know this because Joey points out new ones daily).

I feel that the correct thing to do is embrace these well earned ‘flaws’. Well, sorry, I just can’t. No way!! It’s wrong, wrong, wrong!! Damn it, I want my boobs back, tight skin and just once to have sex without my bones cracking like I’m 100. I mean, come on, how sexy is that? The mood is just right; I lean in for a kiss and crack, pop…UHHH….sorry! Joe, with a look of concern, like he has just broken me, asks, “Are you okay?” Shit…”Yeah, I’m okay, I don’t know about our sex life though”! Seriously folks, I even asked Joe if anyone would notice if we installed a handicap bar made for the shower onto our wall as a headboard. Hmmm…maybe if I decorated it somehow, it wouldn’t stand out so much!

For those of you who are younger…just wait, you’ll see!! For those of you who are older, you know what I’m talking about! For those of you who are ‘embracing’ these new quirks, you must be more mature than me, cause I can not stuff my boobs into a bra, tape up my eyebrows, and wax that unwanted hair quietly!! I can only sit back and patiently wait for these years to pass….the ‘Golden Years’ I think will be better. Granted, by then I will probably have uncontrollable gas and no boobs left at all, but the chances of me not remembering how great my tits used to be are better! That’s the key to embracing the older me, I think! When my memory of that dancer in a leotard has blurred, I will for sure love my wrinkly, gray-headed self!!