Today, I am... older. Technically, I could say that every day, but today, the number of candles inches up.
I am one step closer to the F-word (that's FORTY, fuckers).
And here's my gripe about aging. It's not gray hair or the occasional aches and pains. It's not even the "middle-age spread" (an actual term my doctor used during my checkup yesterday--I shit you not).
This is what chaps my ass:
In the morning, after a night of sleeping on a particularly bunched-up pillow, it now takes FOR FUCKING EVER for the pillow creases on my face to go away. They used to go away like *that* (I'm snapping my fingers), and now I regularly show up at work with what looks like a relief map of the NYC subway map on my cheek.
Told you it was trivial.
Told you it was bitchy.
Happy birthday to me.
Yay old.
;)
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