You know how pregnant women get upset at the onset of stretchmarks? I was one of those lucky ladies who did not have to go through that with either of my pregnancies. No, my belly stayed perfectly smooth with both boys, no cocoa butter necessary.
And you bet your butt I was pretty smug about it. Not to people’s faces or anything. But I would sometimes stare in the mirror and thank God for sparing my belly those awful scars. I mean, phewwwww *wipes sweat beads off brow* what could be worse?
I’ll tell you what could be worse.
As I was putting lotion on my legs the other day I noticed small purple lines. It took me a few seconds for my brain to get the message after spotting them.
Yes, I have my very first varicose veins. They look awful. I know it’s not the end of the world. But it’s the end of my legs being my favorite part of my body.
It was bad enough that I had to start getting gray hair at the ripe old age of 28. But I fear it’s only gonna get worse from here.
Like my grandpa always used to say . . . getting old is for the birds.
The other sign I’m getting old comes in the form of a question. What the hell is going on with the music they are playing on the radio!? It is NOT appropriate. Okay, so I will at least give Kanye West an A+ for the creativity category. And I love Katy Perry as much as my husband anyone would. But I don’t EVER want to hear about alien sex and probing while on my way to work at 8:00 a.m.
I think I choked on my coffee the first time I really paid attention to what that song was about. I am so glad my boys aren’t teenagers . . . yet.
and there you have it, folks. I am complaining about varicose veins and how today’s music is completely offensive and inappropriate for our youth. I am officially getting old.