39? Who, me?

Didn't I just get my license yesterday? How could this happen?

I know I am officially knocking on 40’s door, but, as of this morning, I feel like I am busting in COPS-style. How am I supposed to embrace turning 39 in a mere 5 days when sh*t keeps happening?

I woke up with the early bird breakfast special crowd, as usual, and staggered into the bathroom after changing Alex’s 10-pound diaper (morning weight training, baby), begging him for 1.5 hours to “shhhh” so my teenager could wake-up refreshed for school, and whipping up breakfast selections for his pull-my-hair-out-strand-by-strand-I-want-to-scream discriminating toddler palate. I was expecting to see my normal makeup smeared, bed-headed self…no biggie…but I saw IT instead. IT…a little freaking furrow burrowing its way into a crease near my right eyebrow that WAS NOT THERE YESTERDAY. It’s now mid-day, and IT is gone…but not forgotten.

It's really confusing what to do from this point on.

Isn’t that what happens to women of a certain age? You wake up in the morning with a wrinkle, IT goes away, and then IT buys the prime real estate at a short-sale price on the Upper East Side of your face? I don’t want to look like I am permanently pissed off or constantly questioning other Moms at playgroups—really, that won’t win me any friends. What am I supposed to do about IT?

This…on the heels of me losing a piece of tooth yesterday. Yeah, that’s right…there I was, chomping on some sugar-free Juicy Fruit like a good dieting citizen while being held hostage in my car by my sleeping son when I heard an unfamiliar noise. I reached into my mouth thinking it was a piece of filling (again, no biggie), but quickly realized it was tooth. Yes, tooth. Uh, what happened? Did it just give out after 30-something years of service with no warning or fanfare whatsoever?

I swear I wasn’t scarfing down Milk Duds in the privacy of my car when it happened. It was sugarless gum. I was only thinking of the Milk Duds. I should’ve known better…just like looking at pizza sticks to my thighs through some force unknown to man. I am screwed.

I don’t want to become a wrinkled, toothless wonder on a perpetual diet at 39. I had Yummy Mummy higher hopes for myself.

How do I stop IT in its tracks? Clarisonic? Wrinkle creams? Yoga? Bread and olive oil (that was wishful thinking)? Come on, dolls, share your best beauty tips with me. I know 40 is the new 30, blah, blah, blah…and I still have another whole year until I turn the big 4-0. But I don’t even know how the hell I got to be 39, and it’s not looking good so far.

Do I need to remind you again that I turn 39 in 5 days? Help a woman of a certain age out, please!

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4 Responses to 39? Who, me?

  1. Pingback: Guidelines for Babies and Dairy Products: Changes and Revisions | Park Baby

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