Somebody! Shoot me now!
I didn't think I would have such a primal, instinctive, adverse reaction to aging. Being six years younger than The Husband- I will always be the sprite young thing to his walker and hairpiece. I must have discounted the fact that I am bound to start showing my age. Blast!
This morning I am off to find me some anti-wrinkle creams! (any suggestions, fellow old people?) If they don't work, I'm going to be forced to have one of you take me "out back" like a broken racehorse. I refuse to live a life looking out through the wrinkled canyon that will become my face.
Seriously. I am about two months away from this:
Included in this woe of oldness, is the fact I wore a gorgeous pair of super high wedges yesterday. All day. I was supremely impressed with myself because they add about two inches to my height- like walking on stilts. They also make that self-assuring "click! click!" on hard surfaces. I adore that sound. Yes, they may not be the most comfortable things in the world. But hotdarned! They are BEAUTIFUL!
This morning? I am limping. Full-on limping. I don't know when or how, but wearing ridiculously high heels snapped something in the arch of my foot. So much pain. Oh, the pain! (and whining about the pain!)
I should pick up a cane while I'm at Target today. Right along with the anti-wrinkle cream. Heck, why not throw in some Depends. I'm sure my continence will throw in the towel on that losing battle soon enough.
Ohmygosh. This is all so terribly depressing!