I. Am. Old.
Turned fortyfuckingNINE yesterday. I mean, there’s no way around the fact that that’s not young. How did this happen?? I swear I was a youthful and sassy 39 not that long ago.
Even worse, no amount of diet and exercise and grooming can hide the fact that I am not young anymore. As part of my bday celebration, I did a girls weekend in NYC. Much prep went into it. I waxed all the body parts and shaved those that I didn’t wax (*nods at finger knuckles and toe knuckles*) I planned (read: did the purchase/return cycle so much that the Frug’s head is going to spin around) outfits. I had fresh highlights, a haircut, I even tinted my brows!
Oh, and for my big Saturday night out, we had the Glam Squad come to do blowouts and makeup!
Middle aged soccer mom.
Actually, according to the sainted Ashlee, I looked like a “middle aged gym teacher“…which is much, much better, right?
I mean, if I can’t groom and retail my way to a youthful glow, WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?