You Have Something on Your Face…..

Peeps, getting old is for the birds. The things that happen to your body are mind-blowing. Sadly though, there isn’t that much of your mind left after the wildness of your twenties. Some of the hard living I did back then is coming back to bite me in the (much saggier) ass. Let’s take a moment and break down the state of this aging gracefully bullshit….

The Wrinkles. To Botox or not to Botox? The answer is always yes. A few years ago, my sweet cousin (who is 7 years younger and a successful Rodan and Fields consultant) asked me if I wanted to try their Reverse Regimen “as and alternative to Botox.” Bless her heart. There is no alternative to Botox. Just get over it and poison the shit out of those wrinkles, because after you get those under control, you’ll be left with….

The Mysterious Growths. What’s that you say? Sounds horrifying. Yes, one day you’ll wake up and look in the mirror and discover that you have a third eye in the middle of your forehead. Mistaking it for a pimple, you squeeze it until it bleeds, and then cover it with everything from zit cream to Compound W for warts. Nothing helps. After months of it being the only thing you see in pictures of yourself and the one spot your eyes are drawn to when you peek in the mirror, you’ll relent and make an appointment with the dermatologist. They’ll say “Oh yeah, that’s a blah blah hyperplasia something or other. They are typical in older people.” At which point you’ll want to stab them in the eye, but instead you pay $200 to have them fry it off. Add to that, hundreds of dollars of creams and magic potions to remove…..

The Sun Spots. Remember back when you were 16 and the MOST IMPORTANT thing on your agenda was getting a deep, dark San Tropez tan? So, you slathered yourself with baby oil and sat in the sun for as long as you could. Well….that was stupid. For me, the deep dark tan that I achieved left me with melanoma and a map of sun spots that could make for a connect-the-dots project for Malory.

Moving along from the skin to…..

The Hair. Thinning. Thankfully it’s not changing color, but really how would I know? I’ve been pretending to be blonde for years. I always laugh to myself when my kids give John a hard time about declaring himself to be blonde. His hair is a very dark shade of dirty blonde, you could even say brown like my kids do. Truth be told, without an every-6-week trip to the miracle workers, my hair might be darker than his. BUT THE THINNING….that I did not expect. I’ve never had a head of luxurious, long locks and honestly if I met a Genie in a Bottle it would be one of my 3 wishes. But, I have always been able to make it look decent with enough product and backcombing. Lately though, I can see through it and I swear as I was drying it yesterday I saw and actual bald spot. Maybe I was just having trouble with….

The Eyes. I used to gloat when my optometrist told me that my fluctuating contact lens prescription would keep me out of readers for longer than most people. I was proud, like it was something I accomplished through hard work and dedication. Now, when one of the kids walks up and shoves something in my face to read, my head jerks back like there’s some sort of foul smell. It’s only a matter of time, I know. I have cute pairs of readers saved in my Amazon shopping cart, but I can’t pull the trigger without my glasses.

The Mind. A while ago, I was talking to my sister-in-law on my cell phone while running errands. I walked out of whatever restaurant I had been in and was already in the car driving when I said to her in a panic “Oh No!! I left my cell phone at the restaurant.” I am MORTIFIED to report that it took a full 30 seconds before EITHER of us realized that I was TALKING ON SAID CELL PHONE. It was in my hand. Bring on the St. John’s Wort and whatever other memory boosting drugs there are.

The Sleep. As a teenager, I was able to blissfully sleep the day away without a care in the world. And, I always wondered why my mom complained about being tired. Although I never said it to her (tired people are to be feared) I always thought “Just sleep why don’t you?” Again, sorry mom. It’s a rare occurrence when my eyes don’t pop open at 5:30, no matter what time I went to bed. This is after I pop 2 Power to Sleep pills and drink a cup of Sleepytime tea. What is happening here? I just said drink tea when 15 years ago I would have said throw back a shot of tequila. Over the past few years, once I got my littlest into preschool, there were times when I would be so worn out that I’d plan to go back to bed once I got her to school….THREE HOURS of uninterrupted slumber. Guess what happened? I would lie there as far away from sleep as a person could get. Fast forward a few years and I lay down on the couch to read in the afternoon before I have to be at the bus stop. I can’t make it 4 minutes without nodding off. If my Dad is reading this, he’s laughing his ass off. You know what I attribute all of this insomnia to????

The Hormones. What the hell? Estrogen, Progesterone and Testosterone….oh my! I can honestly say that I made it through my teenage years without much in the way of PMS or crazy hormonal fluctuations (my family might say otherwise, and if they do I’ll bite their head off). My first taste of the power curse of hormones was during my first pregnancy and HOLY COW was that ever eye opening. Thankfully, by pregnancies two and three, John and I both knew what to expect and were able to laugh our way through that first and late third trimester. One would think that after I was no longer having kids, the hormonal effects would go back into the closet where they belong. NO NO NO NO NO. What’s happening now makes that time look like a walk in the park I’m afraid. I could probably handle it if the triple threat were just wreaking havoc on my sleep, weight and complexion. But, it’s the moods and borderline personality disorders that really have me worried. And praying for menopause. I’ve never been prone to bouts of road rage or angry outbursts really. By and large, I am a pretty level-headed, even-keeled type of person. But, there are a couple of days each month now where I resemble the girl from the Exorcist, and even my favorite people are in danger. I work REALLY hard to not let all of the evil thoughts in my head come out of my mouth, because if they did it might be a new Netflix documentary about the Pre-Menopausal Mom Who Lost Her Shit.

The Figure. Yup. Didn’t think I’d leave that part out, did you? Within a pound or two, I weigh the same as I did before I had kids. BUT, things are definitely NOT in the same place as they were before. Am I right ladies? Somehow, all things have migrated to an area I like to refer to as the Upper Butt. To clarify, it’s nowhere near as cool as the Upper West Side, but has the same basic square footage. It’s as if there is no longer any definition between the actual butt and the back….just one big wasteland.

Ok, enough of that. Let’s be clear about something. I am 45 years old. By all accounts I am in a prime part of my life. Honestly, despite these maladies, if there were a way to freeze time at the most “perfect” age, this would be it, give or take 5 years. I am most of the time smart enough to not make huge mistakes, and I am tolerant enough of others to confine my distaste to an eye roll and a walk away. It’s not lost on me how fortunate I am to be healthy and happy. I write this list as a way to commiserate with my friends and have a good long laugh at our own expense Also, as a warning to those cocky friends who are younger than me….your time will come ladies. And, as a quasi-apology to those fantastic ladies in my life who are older than me, and to whom I was once the cocky young whippersnapper.

“Anything you think is wrong with your body at the age of thirty-five, you will be nostalgic for at the age of forty-five.” – Nora Ephron