So, I’m moderately okay with this so-called middle age thing. Maybe because in my head, I’m in my early 30s. But it has dawned on me that no one looks at me and thinks “young woman” (except perhaps octogenarians).  Like maybe that bartender wasn’t really flirting with me but was instead humoring someone his mom’s age because that’s the polite thing to do and maybe we tip well. Or, perhaps, he was just taking my order and was, I don’t know, friendly.

But mostly I’m okay because if this is middle age – knowing and liking who I am, enjoying life as a married woman but still having great night outs with my girlfriends, having things more or less settled (these are the two kids I will have, this is the man I will marry, and I will keep them all – for now anyway) — I’m a-ok with it. It’s kind of this  golden time where you stop really giving a shit what other people think. And you’re not just saying it, you actually don’t care.  Like, maybe there are times when you should give a tiny bit of a shit (see: “maybe it’s not them” blog post)…but you don’t.

But here’s what I was/am not prepared for:

1) being hot all the damn time. Unless I’m freezing. I no longer have any sense of whether I will be hot or cold in any given scenario. Okay, usually hot. but not always.

2) aches and pains. I remember lying on a beach chair in my 20s. Legs going up the back of the chair whilst on my stomach reading a magazine. Now the thought of having my legs go up at a tilt while I lie on my stomach is something that seems physiologically wrong and maybe impossible. In fact, I can’t even lie flat on my stomach on a beach chair for more than six minutes, and that’s only if I am lying flat with any reading material on the ground so there is no “crick” in my neck/spine (also, I use the word “crick” on a fairly regular basis. also, who gets to read on a beach chair?). I will be going about my merry way (often on stairs) and suddenly I have knee pain.  I grunt when I sit down on the floor, and may say things like “okay!” as I launch myself back to standing (whilst using arm/leg to do so).  Not to mention my torn rotator cuff (okay, that I may have torn when I was young, like 39) and my chronic lower back pain.

3) on that front, while ignoring any (rare) ache or pain was all it took in the past, these bitches now need attention. Like, daily. They are high maintenance.

4) ditto hang-overs. I will get a head-ache the same night as I have one (1) drink. not that this will spare me the head ache the next day. Grease does not help, nor does the trusty V8 of my youth. For a while, I went rogue and killed the hangovers with salad (they were tricked, like didn’t know what to do with themselves, so they gave in. That didn’t last that long though). On more than one occasion I thought I was coming down with a stomach bug after a night out, but no, no. The quease was just my pay-back for enjoying myself the night before. With two cocktails. Some would suggest that is an indictor to maybe stop drinking. Please.

(also, mom, really, don’t worry. I don’t drink to much. promise).

5) I generally feel relatively lucky on the wrinkle front. But sometimes after being in the sun, I will get home, remove sunglasses and see those forehead “11” wrinkles essentially *etched* into my forehead. Also, they are red.

6) acne is back. For the love of god, if I”m going to be in my 40s, can I at least have clear skin?

7) unlike some of my (rude) friends (and you know who you are, and there an annoying number of you), people do not gasp/cover mouth in awe/say “no way” when I tell them I am 43. Ever.