There are 117 days remaining until The Rapture, The Great Reckoning, The End of Days, The End, or as I’m sure many will refer to it, my 40th birthday. Until recently, I hadn’t really given much thought to the big 4-0. I looked on and laughed mockingly as my childhood friends passed the threshold into old age. Of course, my mocking was not lacking in smart-ass comments about devices used for better hearing and removable teeth. Being the proud recipient of an early spring birthday, I was given a few extra months of youth that, while difficult when awaiting the legal drinking age, had been quite welcome in birthdays since then. It is only recently that I finally realized, time is running out.
What brought this realization to light? Was it my new found inability to stay awake until 11:00? Perhaps it was my need to add fiber to my diet at any given opportunity. Could it have been my sudden and unexpected shock at the whorish fashion choices appearing on girls under 25? Or was it the day my dentist uttered the words, “We’ll be making you a Partial”? I’m not completely sure, but I think each of these combined with the death of Andy Rooney leaving an opening for a grouchy, embittered, senior citizen, columnist that have driven me to start this blog. So join me on my journey into old age, as I try to balance growing old while still being mother to a 3 year old ?Midget.