Accepting my Inner B*tch

I’m 41 years old, dammit, and today I pick up my first (and probably not my last) pair of reading glasses.  I’m even a little happy about them; they’re cute and more importantly, I’ll be able to read books at night.  I might even be able to see the computer screen after 10 pm.  What’s not to love?

I’m overweight but I’m relatively healthy.  Sure, my butt could shelter a Peterbilt, but it also makes for comfortable sitting, and I can bump people out of my way (sometimes without even trying).  I’m learning to be comfortable in my own skin, even though I have more of it than I need.  The other day I was miserable in my own skin but that was probably PMS talking. 

I have more gray hair now than I did at the beginning of the year.  I blame most of that on the house-hunting.  I just couldn’t stomach the idea of looking at another house, so I gave myself yesterday off and went to the supermarket instead, and probably spent so much that we can’t afford a house anymore.  But I noticed this morning that the gray hair is almost kind of cute; I’m starting to get that Bride-of-Frankenstein-streak thing going on, which is unique, or at least, it would be if the Bride of Frankenstein hadn’t done it first.  At least in general my hair looks good, and I hear gray hairs are thicker than regular hairs.  I’ll take all the help I can get.  I’m so jealous of my blonde friends; their transition to gray won’t be nearly as noticeable.  I seriously considered coloring it again but a) there’s the continual problem with upkeep, and b) it’s such a pain in the butt.  So for now the gray stays where it is, and I hope I can pull off “distinguished” with a grace equal to George Clooney. 

The media these days seem to think we should be afraid of everything.  We have TSA, video cameras on every street corner, and the Patriot Act is legal despite every clause that contradicts the Constitution.  When we go home (just where we think we ought to feel safe) and look in the mirror, we should be afraid of who we see because <GASP!> we’re aging, therefore we need to buy a few hundred dollars worth of products to make sure we still look like we’re 17.  Get with reality, people.  Every 7 years our body’s cells replace themselves, and we all know that copies are never as good as the originals.  That’s why babies are so perfect; they’re still working with the original material.  After your first birthday, it all goes downhill, so relax and enjoy the ride.


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