This post is dedicated to the dreaded 40th birthday and all of the women in the world who must endure it!
It’s Hard to be 40
My mouth is a dry desert
yearning for water constantly.
My mind is a colander
losing thoughts and important things.
My body is a faded image
changing from curvy to straight.
My face is a wrinkle farm
hugging my eyes and mouth.
My elbows are sharp sticks
poking my husband in his sleep.
My teeth are cracked porcelain
keeping my dentist in business.
I wonder what 50 will be like?
(Based on the children’s book “It’s Hard to be Five,” by Jamie Lee Curtis.)
Photo credit: Corrina L. Terry and her Sharpie
While I've been whining the last week or so about my upcoming 40th birthday it's to hide my true feelings. I've been panicking. I want to hide in bed. I want run away. Crying doesn't seem to help. A birthday is not something one can hide or run from though. It comes no matter what. Lying seems like the only option, but I hate lying. Besides, I stink at it, just ask Steven J.
So I take a deep breath and shoulder the year. I can do it. Yes, I can. I can suck it up and admit to myself that I'm getting oldish. Older. For-ty. FORTY! Yikes! Where did the time go? Somebody pass me the chocolate.