There comes a time in a woman’s life when her body starts to change. (Actually a poor woman’s body does this all the freaking time considering puberty and pregnancy and the frequent weight changes associated with life as a woman) Hormone levels plummet, hairs pop up overnight in the strangest places. Your husband looks at your breasts as you step into the shower and says something like “man, I would have loved to see them in their prime”. You have to be ever vigilant for further signs that your ovaries are imploding and the vapid wasteland that was once your womb is drying up. Oh trust me, as 40 creeps closer and closer I am obsessively slathering “age-defying” creams on my face, frantically plucking rogue hairs off my chin, and buying padded, push up bras for the first time in my, at one time, blessed with large breasts life. And I am coming to terms with it, I am. Really. I’m serious, look at me….why would I lie about how zen I am regarding this whole mid life thing? I have even made a list of the pros of getting older:
No more periods, no more surprise babies or planned babies for that matter (yes, kids, you were both planned with the utmost thought and consideration, don’t even worry about that), and uh, yep, that’s the list. So I mean great. Lots of good stuff. Oh yeah, and no more zits, right? I mean no God would be that cruel. I lived through my teenage years, I paid my dues to the benzoyl peroxide companies and I have officially retired my Noxema jar. Except, I haven’t because landing on my face on a regular basis lately are my old friends from Gym class and Band camp; the zits. WTF? And not even little “oh, how cute, a tiny pimple, my skin must still be quite supple” but big, red beacons of hormonal fluctuations parked right there on my chin, my forehead, my nose, where-ever. It’s not fair. And I don’t mean to sound childish about it but apparently, my skin is still in its adolescence so excuse me while I stomp to my room and throw myself dramatically on my bed and cry.
Now, let’s review; we as women, approach midlife and our insides shrivel and dry up, while our outsides get greasy and sweaty and saggy and hairy. But good news, (and you can totally Pinterest this life hack if you want) you can use your left over tampons as zit cream applicators!
“Hey, hey”, you might be thinking, “what about men? You’re posts are getting awful sexist lately, Dowdy.” And you guys are right. I haven’t been giving the male side of things an equal shake so here are the things you get when you reach mid life, men: you get Viagra and Rogaine (wouldn’t want you to lose your mojo) and A BRAND NEW CONVERTIBLE! That’s right, every man, when he hits about 50, gets some secret special deal on convertible sports cars at every dealership across the country. I know this is true because all I see riding around in convertible sports cars are middle aged men. And for the record, none of them had a zit to be seen.