pudding poof

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Dang it all, I’ve got bad news. It’s something I haven’t wanted to share. I’ve attempted to ignore it, keep it quiet, and hope it would go away. But it won’t. In fact, it is getting bigger every day.

I’m getting old.

It really pisses me off. I’m not ready to be old. I still have a lot of maturing to do and I’ve been careful not to sleep on my face ever since I read that Cosmo article back in 1986. (Sheet creases cause wrinkles) I just want to shake my fist at someone or something and demand to stay young. Sigh…..it isn’t working.

I’m not usually one to really care about age. I mean, there isn’t anything we can do about it. We either grow older….or we don’t. The ‘don’t’ choice isn’t one I’m overly fond of, so, growing older is my only choice.  The kids at school are always asking me how old I am and I’m pretty good at avoiding actually telling them. I will answer with things like…”older than you.” or  “How old do YOU think I am?” This one is fun because they always guess something adorable like 19 or 23. I love it.  Sometimes I’ll be sarcastic and tell them I’m 115. They laugh and forget they wanted to know. (I’m not really that old)

It seems that the stress I’ve felt the last…..four years or so, has decided to make itself comfortable in the soft vulnerable spots on my face and mid section. Wrinkles and crinkles and rolls and puffs are congregating in all the wrong areas lately. I’ve never been a big ‘party’ person, but even if I was, these guys are annoying guests. They put their feet on my eyes, stretch out my t-shirts and make me look really awful in pictures.

It’s a conspiracy. I decided maybe going to the gym would scare away some aged house guests but even my trainer has abandoned me. He moved to a new gym. I feel a bit hurt. He didn’t even warn me. I mean, It’s only been …..8 months since we worked out together…you’d think he would let a girl know he was moving on.

I’m not sure what to do. I can either break all the mirrors in my house, break every camera I own, wear a long black mumu every day with movie star sunglasses, or never leave my house. All of these somehow make me think I will only grow bigger and older at a faster pace. I could possible start working out without my trainer (horrors!) and get botox….but I don’t think I want bull ‘juices’ anywhere in or on my person.

Sigh….More sleep and less food would probably be a possible first step. I don’t think it will actually make me younger, but maybe it will slow down the process a bit. In the mean time, I am going to destroy all the picture proofs I just received from that sweet photographer at the ANWAY conference. Bless her heart….she did the best she could with what she had to work with….but I told her I wanted to look like Cindy Crawford! She failed….cause I said so.

 

Photo credit: http://www.google.com/search?q=images+of+monkey+faces&hl=en&client=safari&rls=en&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=IXk5UZ_gDumVyAHOl4HYDw&ved=0CDAQsAQ&biw=1366&bih=569#imgrc=mqSzTeoOWqmYTM%3A%3BFModH3rJVMQm2M%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fimages.fanpop.com%252Fimages%252Fimage_uploads%252FFunny-Monkey-Faces-the-funpop-128028_198_196.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.fanpop.com%252Fclubs%252Fthe-funpop%252Fimages%252F128028%3B198%3B196

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