Uplifting and comical…a look at my life, motherhood and the circus that goes with it

What 33 Means to me.

image.jpgAll I want for Christmas is to be 28 again. I mean, I don’t think that is asking too much. It’s not like I am asking to be 22 or even 25. Just 28, that all. Easy, peasy.  28 was great. I didn’t have pimples. Well, I did have a few here and there, but never “Mommy, why do you have a nipple on your forehead?” You know that if a pimple is being considered as a nipple, you’ve got problems.  I was asked to smile in pictures and not reminded that I will not like a picture because I have smiled “Too much” . I mean, what does that mean? My smiles lines are now considered as a flaw? Fantastic.

Shopping is becoming a bit of an issue as well because when your body size says ‘tween’ and your face says “aging incredibly”, there will be teenage girls commenting to their moms in the dressing room why that “lady” is shopping in the junior department. .(Thank you for that by the way). Listen, if I could shop in the petite section, I would; however, Petite seems to mean “short”. They have big and tall stores. Why can’t they have short and straight? Or Adult Tween.

Getting older you don’t look as cute either whether you’ve showered or not showered. In college, I used to be able to pull my hair up in a messy bun and look totally acceptable for class after a night of drinking.  Now, my husband tells me to go shower when I have showered and only had a cup of chamomile tea the night before.  And if you are daring enough to go out in public without showering at this age, you will most definitely see someone you know, and most likely, someone you haven’t seen since you were that cute enough to put your hair in a messy bun for class. It’s ok. Just hide behind the Barbie present you are getting your daughter for Christmas from Toys R Us.  It will be like it never even happened.

Getting your hair done at the salon, where it used to be relaxing, is now a reminder of what your children have done to your hair over the years. Its like they took an ice scraper to it, shoveling off what used to be a beautiful head of hair. You apologize that your hair hasn’t been washed that day…or probably actually like 2 days ago which is why you never took it out of the “not so cute” messy hair bun. You ask every time if there is gray hair or if you are balding. “No, it just gets thinner as you get older”. (exactly).

Muscle weakness….Forget about the saying that a hangover lasts for days after age 30, lets talk about the muscle soreness from dancing for just an hour. The alcohol is nothing. The hip muscle that I pulled while twerking like Miley, is now a constant reminder that I can’t hang anymore. WTF. And. while being intimate with my husband, my bones crack. I might as well pull my dentures out in the middle of it to add to the lust of noises going on. So hot. I’m such a catch.

Shaving acts as a medicine with “use as needed” instructions. I never intended on becoming a furry beast at times, but quite honestly I just forget about it. Like going to get a mammogram, and not realizing that part of the process was lifting up your arm. I’m sure that technician enjoyed the corn rows growing underneath my arms. (Epic fail.) I totally forgot. And the worst part about it was that I wasn’t even that embarrassed. We stop worrying about being cool at this age and just assume that they have seen worse. Or maybe it is the parent factor. We have indeed seen worse ourselves so if a nurse can’t stand a slightly harry armpit, its not our problem. Just as if you want your independence, then don’t have kids.

By the time you hit 35, you may potentially be bankrupt from the skincare products you are purchasing because you have only started now with anti wrinkle creams and nothing works. There is no magical cure from the 1800 cigarettes you smoked a night until 6am in your early twenties. Also, the binge drinking probably didn’t help either but really, don’t they consider binge drinking for a female at over three drinks? Yea okay…you try going to a frat party with only having that many. Though the keg stands and beer bonging was a fantastic idea at the time, your face is seeing the results from it. Now at 33, makeup ALWAYS helps. There is no other option, especially when you have “nipples” growing on your face. (thank you hormones). So husbands, don’t blame the wife, blame the estrogen and all the ex boyfriends that caused the binge drinking.

But don’t we get wiser with age? Isn’t that the claim to fame as we age so delicately (or not so). Can I say that when I purchased a stamp at the stamp kiosk and asked for 6 17 cent stamps to use on mailing my thank you cards that that was just an oversight? Or was doing such a thing a way to put to bed my questioning for 16 years why WVU offered me summer school in my acceptance letter. Hard to say.

I do know that getting older just makes you realize whats important and what isn’t.  A hairy armpit will not overshadow the achievements of your children and the love of your spouse. And that being humble is potentially a way better outlook on life than worrying about pimples, nipples or winkles. But…however, it still sucks.

Be true, be you.


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