Welcome to Mid-Life Monday. These words are somewhat synonomous because we dread them both. Now let's just go back to bed.
I could also title this special occasion as "What else is going to fall apart?" Besides my body, marriage and mental state, that is. But besides that I'm fine.
So, are you sensing the passing of your youth? I sure the crap am. I look in the mirror and wonder who that matronly figure is looking back at me. I pray that I don't run into any old boyfriends as I leave the house. They wouldn't recognize me anymore anyway, so I don't know why I even worry about it.
I was pulled over by a police officer the other day and he asked to see my driver's license. He studied it and looked at me over his sun glasses, glanced down at my license again looked at me. "This says you weigh 140 lbs." So now I'm thinking he's going to book me for providing false information.
"Well, I weighed close to that at the time," I said while clearing my throat and glancing down and to the left, which in body language means you've just told a lie.
He looked up at me and said, "Do you have red hair?"
"Well, Officer, they wouldn't let me put optional, and I tried a new haircolor that week." I could feel myself shrinking.
"Looks like you have a birthday coming up."
"Yeah," I uttered. He didn't question my year of birth.
"Where are you headed?"
"To Hell, obviously." Well, I wanted to say that but I didn't. Or maybe I should have said, "I'm just trying to avoid going over the hill." I actually said, "Well, I need to get to where I'm going real fast before I forget where I'm going."
He let me off but the thing that really upset me is he said, "Have a nice day, ma'am." Aren't old ladies called ma'am?
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