“I’m sitting here watching the Olympics with a bottle of Advil in one hand and a fairly decent wine in the other, as they talk about how distressingly old the 35-year-old athlete is and what a marvel it is that she can still stand without, you know, her knees breaking or her hair falling out mid-performance, and my snarl is so apparent that my husband asks me what’s wrong.
So I thought it would be a good time to list all the reasons that being in one’s 50s is so freakin’ amazing… lest I forget and this snarl becomes permanent like a facelift gone wrong…”
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Now my turn.
Sent from the center of the universe