People think they’re being nice when they try to tell me I’m not middle-aged, but I think they’re really trying to tell me they’re not middle-aged. People in their 40s and up often protest when I define the 40s as middle-aged, but twenty-six-year-olds don’t. They know that if the average American woman lives to her early 80s, then 40 is pretty much the middle of her life.
Ways I proudly bear my middle age-itude:
1. I no longer wear high heels ever, even though I’m a little less than 5 feet, 2 inches tall.
2. I wear bifocals glasses, with the line.
3. I wear dowdy, I-don’t-care clothes in public and feel glad when men completely ignore my body as I walk down the street. I’m done with that game.
4. Prune juice every morning!
5. Each year I’m increasingly grateful that I didn’t have kids because I do NOT have the patience.
I think my 47th year is going to be great (just completed 46)!
Thanks, Jess!
I love how completely at peace and grounded you are in our own humanity.
Also, you look beautiful in those photos.
Prune juice makes me happy.
Prune Juice yuk