I’ve always believed that age is a number only, and the advancing of years is not a death sentence like so many others think. Rather, birthdays should be embraced, enjoyed, used as a get out of jail free day, anything that dictates ‘special’. For one day at least, it’s all about you, so enjoy it to the max. At least, it’s what I’ve believed all this while. I was saying precisely this to a good friend the other day, after she mentioned being aware of my current birthday countdown. She’s lived a very full life, and hasn’t even gotten near the mid-point of life, (which I’ve always considered as being 50). She’s fabulous for good conversation, and you always learn from her.
Just that once, I really wish I hadn’t learned anything that day!!
Did you know that when a woman passes the age of 30, ahem…ummm, hair can start growing on her CHIN?? I will be 30 in TWO years!! Time to invest in one of those infomercial shavers - you know the type: just rub on your skin and hair comes off!! Will I be one of those old crones with whiskers and goatee? Okay, a long time ago, I conceded that having wrinkles and gray hair would be just fine by me. Thanks to my father and mother, physical perfection has never been my goal. I eschew Botox, and think plastic surgery is sooooo not for me. But sprouting hairs on my chinny-chin-chin at the ripe young age of THIRTY?! That I could not process! Ew.
Really, ew. I regressed to teenage mentality, asking about other gross expectations, and I got a doozy of them! Apparently all those strong rum and cokes that are “guaranteed to put hair on your chest” do eventually work! I shudder at the thought, and I have been routinely checking under my shirt for any errant growth. The other day I found a loose head hair and my heart nearly stopped. It is like puberty for the midlife. A girl can only take so much. The first round of puberty is still fresh in our minds, and we’re being hit with another phase. At an age when we’re supposed to be in our prime, nature simply throws a curveball and blows expectation clean out the window. Yikes!
You know, I have always depended on Google to give me the low down and dirty on topics I know nothing about, but this time, I believe what I heard. No-one could possibly have invented such horrors. Really, would they have?
All this knowledge of upcoming horrors has me feeling a bit apprehensive now. What shall I expect for presents in a couple of years? Will there be the aforementioned shaver, a weed whacker, a broom? You know, being born on Halloween is fun – but will I eventually resemble a witch? If chin hairs are the start, when will the nose wart spring out? Will there be one or two hairs embedded within?
Honestly, I know that things won’t look or feel or be the same after a certain age, but in a way, even though I am someone who always reads the ending of a book first, I wish I didn’t know what I know now. I don’t really know how I feel about this knowledge – but I am stocking up on hair removal cream. Maybe that should be at the top of my birthday wish-list. (Cackle cackle cackle….oops…)
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