My daughter is working on some class project and asked me if I was alive when birth control was invented. I told her I wasn’t sure of the year because THAT WAS BEFORE I WAS BORN, thank you. At least I THINK SO. We had to look it up.

FYI: Birth control was approved by the FDA in 1960 in the U.S. I’m ten years younger than birth control.

So, I’ll be 45 soon. I wrote that and then paused. Mostly to make sure I’m doing the math correctly. The universe must have known memory was going to be a problem and that math would start to get hard around 4th grade, so it allowed me to be born at the beginning of a decade to make it easier.  That means math as been my enemy for at least – *counts on fingers* – 36 years, give or take.

I’m prepared for even more aging since time has been attacking me for years. At least that’s what I tell people. I can’t wait until I figure out my pant legs have all grown an inch too long, overnight, because I’ve shrunk.

This is what has already “suddenly” happened:

  • I discovered crow’s feet while driving to work when I was 32 and scared my kids when I shrieked at the reflection in the flip down mirror.
  • My arms and hands grew sun spots out of nowhere about seven years ago, thankfully less shocking since I’m so pale.
  • I threw my back out pulling weeds a few years back. I really wish that story had a more interesting twist.
  • My uterus quit on me about a year later in an rush of pain and ended with a hysterectomy. (Unrelated to the back pain, former male co-worker who asked, yet still an uninteresting story.)
  • My first gray hair was a couple of weeks ago. Not that I’ve been looking for gray hair or anything.

I’ve also recently realized that my body has decided that our weight needs to be redistributed. On the plus side, my knees hurt less, but that’s only because I can now save an entire small village from drowning by using my arms as flotation devices.

Truthfully, I feel stronger and healthier than ever. (That may be excess salt talking.)

Aging may be a sneak attack, but there are some things I’m slowly acclimating to:

HAIR:  My hair is longer than it has been in years. I can reach it by putting my hand behind my back. I’m growing my bangs out as well for a Halloween costume. I think it makes me look older and I’ll probably cut it off to my shoulders again. Someone told me I should dye the ends purple “for real” before I cut it since it won’t matter if I damage it. Sounds fun. And suspiciously like NOT acting my age.

LANGUAGE:  I put “for real” in quotes above because it feels like I’m getting to old to use slang phrases. And curse words. I miss curse words! I once used them frequently and now it sounds insincere. If I’m going to use the F-word I want to really mean it. (See? I can’t even write the word.) Before I know it I’ll be white-haired and greeting people with my fake English accent. Because then I can freely use bollocks. We don’t consider it a curse word in the U.S.

FOOD: I have never had any food allergies or problems. Iron stomach. The last few weeks my body has been revolting. Some of you know what I’m talking about. A few weeks ago I ate enough cheese to put the entire French countryside to shame. I think it was my body doing a farewell tour. I ate a little cheese this week and almost died. If this happens to my sugar intake there WILL BE WORDS. Do you hear me body? WORDS.

This will (probably) be the first and last posting about my aging woes. Unless someone says “You’re only as young as you feel!” to me ONE MORE TIME. Then I’m going to have to pull my hair up into a ponytail and cut a bitch.

Naww, you can say it if you like. I probably won’t be able to hear you anyway.

Speak Up! I can't hear you.