Only a few of you will get the reference in the title. If you are one of the select few then you are my people! So I just had a birthday the other day. I have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I am now closer to 50 than I am to 40. Or as Chuck so gleefully pointed out I am now closer to 70 than 20. I get the urge to forcefully vomit when I say the actual age so let me just say this past Tuesday was the the 25th anniversary of my 21st birthday. I'll give you a minute to do the math. 46. I'm 46. That is gross. I still can't believe I am 46, it seems like just yesterday Chuck took me away for my 40th. If you are new to my blog and need a refresher scroll back through my blog to December 4, 2012 and read about the 40 year old mom. It was a great weekend and and ended up with the BEST souvenir EVER from that weekend; Emily!
Anyway, here I am 6 years later somewhat wiser but mostly older. I feel like I am very quickly turning into an old lady. It is as if my body is starting to fail me. So a few years ago Chuck bought me a lighted, magnifying mirror. It has been great for helping me see when I am putting on my eye make-up. My friggin eyes are the first to go. I swear everyday my eyesight gets worse. My t-rex arms are now virtually useless when it comes to helping me move things the proper distance away. The other day I was at work when I realized I forgot my glasses at home. We have this great maintenance guy at work who is incredibly helpful. He needed me to go over some of his paperwork. I sh*t you not he had to hold it for me and had to back up little by little until he was just far enough away for me to actually read the words. I think we may need to put one of those moving sidewalks like they have at the airport on the school's Amazon Wish List, oh, or better yet I could install one of those target movers they have at gun ranges. I could attach the "target" aka the document I am trying to read and I can push a button to have it move back to read it, push the button again and the page will come zooming back to me to take off and file away. Genius! I think I am going to contact Shark Tank about that before one of you steals my idea!
So back to the title..."Hey mustache, what's up" is a quote from Impractical Jokers, for those of you who didn't Google it to see what the reference was. But this my friends is no joke. My magnifying mirror is so powerful I can see things I would rather not. When I turn the light on it is as if I have a pair of those Blue Blocker/ Amber vision glasses from the early 90's. Or for those of you who really enjoyed the 90's when I look in the mirror my face becomes as crisp and clear as if I were a club kid looking in a mirror after taking Ecstasy. Now, all you women of a particular age that do not have one of these magic mirrors are most likely blissfully unaware of all the facial hair you have. I am doing you all a solid when I tell you DO NOT under any circumstance purchase said mirror E.V.E.R! You're welcome! You see if I look in a regular mirror I look pretty good. But in my magic mirror I look like the old hag married to Billy Crystal's character Miracle Max, from The Princess Bride. My face is covered with this short blond hair, you know the kind elderly ladies get. Yeah, apparently my face has lost the youthful glow it once had and skipped right into the geriatric stage. Oh and I recently noticed that I have a mustache! Now, to the naked eye no one would ever notice it-and I have not done anything to it for fear of it growing back thicker, Freddy Mercury style. You would only notice it if you had very up close contact with me. Currently the only one who fits that bill is Chuck and as I frequently remind him he made a vow 12 years ago in front of all our family and friends that he will love me in sickness and in health. Now, if it came down to it I could get this hairy situation in under the "health" piece of that vow on a technicality- perimenopause is the most likely the culprit and that is related to my health.
I am not an overly vain person. Yeah, I do like to brush my hair and put a little shadow and mascara on when I go out in the world. I heard a quote once that went something like, 'when you go out to see the world, the world sees you too'. Now, I do have days that I could make it to the top of the "People of Walmart" page but for the most part overall I try to maintain a 'People of Target' look. I'm not totally classless for f*ck's sake. Oh, and as a side note apropos of nothing, Scottsdale, AZ was named the vainest city of 2016, the last year from which statistics are available. Now, my blog may not be the most educational but I am good for throwing in at least one nugget of useless trivia per post. Again, you are welcome.
So in addition to the mustache I have also become a bearded lady. I remember the first time I saw a chin hair. I was putting make up on I saw what I thought was a piece of lint on my chin. I went to brush it away and it just popped back up into place. I tried again and again it popped back up like one of those flippin blow up smiling clowns that keeps coming back for more every time you knock it down. Holy sh*t! I am growing a beard! What the actual F*ck? OMG, I am super extra. Ugh.
Again, this not an Abraham Lincoln beard, it is just some blond, or God help me maybe grey wisps along my chin. I am all about female empowerment. I fist pump to P!nk's What About Us, I Roar along with Katy Perry, Rachel Platten's "Fight Song" was my anthem in 2015. I love the Greatest Showman's message as much as the rest. I belt out "This is Me" whenever I get the chance, but I refuse to be the next Lettie Lutz! She was the Bearded Lady from P.T. Barnum's original Traveling Circus. I recently read an article that many women are opting to go au natural and let their mustaches/beards be. The new trend is to just go with what is meant to be. Umm, nope, niet, nein, nahi, non and any other way I can say Hell NO! I am going to pluck those suckers until the cows come home. So if you hear me singing;
"I am brave, I am bruised.
I am who I'm meant to be, this is me.
Look out 'cause here I come!
And I'm marching on to the beat I drum.
I'm not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me"
Please know those words are about as hollow as if I sing Madonna's "Like a Virgin". I am fighting that until the day I die and then some; Amy Lee you are on whisker duty! If you see me lying in my casket and I have a stray one you stop the procession and pluck that Mother F*cker. If you don't I swear to all that is Holy I will come back and haunt you!
Another aging process I am fighting is that super thin crepe paper skin. I have always had old lady wrinkly hands. For the past 30 years my hands have been craggy looking. The fact that my hands look like a farmer's wife's hands is one I have just accepted. I am so thankful my face has stood the test of time. I have my mom to thank for that. Back when I was a freshman in High School my mom took me to a make-up counter at the mall. The Clinique lady told me to moisturize my face everyday so I don't get wrinkles. I have slathered my face night and day since and it has worked like a dream. I am pretty confident in saying my face doesn't look 46, I would conservatively say my face looks 10 years younger. Sadly I can't say the same for the skin that resides under my neck and down to the top of my bra line. That is starting to get crepey. I have started moisturizing that but I think it is an exercise in futility-I think that is going to be like chasing a boulder down the side of a mountain. Oh well, fortunately it is only a swath of skin about 6 inches wide. Thank Christ I had that breast reduction/lift 16 years ago. If not my boobs would be dragging on the floor like a Neanderthal's knuckles. I am just going to have to head to Icing or the Paper Store and stock up on some of those hip old lady scarves/shawls to cover that sh*t up!
My taste in television has shifted as well. Instead of current shows like the Bachelor or Empire, I find myself gravitating to things like Forensic Files, Family Feud, Chronicle and 60 Minutes. As I realize with each passing day that my life is more than half over I feel this sense of urgency. I feel like I have to teach my girls as many life lessons as I can squeeze in each day. I feel like I have to be conscious of making as many memories with them as I can. I know I should frame it as if I should enjoy each day and I do, but I can't help but feel this impending sense of doom. Now don't get me wrong, I am not a Debbie Downer curled up in some End of Times bunker, I just feel like I have to squeeze as much in as I can. Now, before you all get nervous about my mental state I do have a wonderful therapist and some pretty good meds to help me enjoy the here and now. When all is said and done, even at my age I am not too senile to appreciate the fact I have a pretty great life; I have 3 healthy children who are the most amazing kids around, I have a husband I am so in love with, who by the way is pretty lucky to have me too, a family I can count on when I need them, I have a comfortable home, great friends and a job where I feel valued. So as long as I have a sturdy pair of tweezers and a bottle of Nair, I'm good! So as Murr says, "Bitch, I'm Fabulous!"
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