I'm 32 years old. That is weird, every day, but I think I'm settling into it fairly well. Some things are starting to worry me, like, it's not so easy to lose weight and my feet hurt. Oh no! I think, I'm middle-aged! And really, if I live to 70, I am kind of middle aged. But women in my family live to be 120 or something and work 3 jobs until somebody makes them stop. So I'm not really middle-aged yet.
It's confusing, this age. I tried to buy some summery shirts at the thrift store yesterday. I was thinking something that said young and breezy without saying "I work in a nightclub" or "I am in denial about my arm flab". And look, the merchandise in thrift stores is limited. I know if I went to a real store and paid full price, I could probably find the slightly-chubby-mommy-who-can-still-look-hot-with-some-makeup-and-rouching department. But I don't shop at real stores, I spend all our money on food. So.
So thrift stores tend to put you in 2 categories, Grandma or Floozy. I was hoping to hit right in the middle of those 2, but I was mostly out of luck. And hey, if you are a 30+ woman still rocking the halter top and Daisy Dukes, I'm not saying YOU are a floozy. I might be saying it's time to rethink that... maybe.
So maybe it's time for me to buy some lavender floral tees from Walmart and some Dr. Scholls and settle in for a nice long elderly season.
Or I could just color my roots, because that is probably the source of all this angst anyway.