Being 41


Being 41 is weird.

wearing-moms-heels-pinterestIt’s making me Google ‘serums’ that can turn back years of sun damage. Gosh, if I could step back in time, I would slap that bottle of Reef Oil with the SPF -5 out of my hands and make myself wear a hat, top and 30+ sunscreen!

It’s making me stand in front of the mirror, and use both hands on each side of my face to flatten out my wrinkles. Botox? Yes please!

It’s making me panic that I get so excited about sunny days and doing three loads of washing!

It’s making me get extra tests at the docs for health issues as ‘a precautionary measure’. Gosh, I miss the feeling of invincibility when you are young!

It’s making me break out which is weird! What is the deal with adult acne?!

It’s made me get a blood test to check I was menopausal. But it turned out that I am just a bad tempered b*tch!

It’s made keeping fit so, so hard! Huffing and puffing on the treadmill is just not as much fun when it serves as a cruel reminder of how much I’ve let myself go!

It’s making me not want to enter certain clothing stores, just incase the shop assistants are thinking I am shopping there for my teenage daughter!

It’s making me feel the need to hide my immaturity. Surely, I’m not the only 41-year-old that gets teary-eyed while watching ‘Frozen’; or who laughs at fart jokes, right?

It’s making me feistier, as my tolerance for bullish** is w-a-a-y lower than ever. Actually, I like this part of being 41!

Here’s to growing old disgracefully!

 

 

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