Getting Older and Cheetos and Kings of Leon

I'm 41. Forteeeeee-waaaahhhhhnnnn! My birthday was back in November, so don't go wishing me happy birthday. But, my husband's bday was Friday and that got me to thinking. Thinking about getting older. It's a weird, weird thing. Kinda like Cheetos - they taste so good, with their bright orange cheese-a-liscious powder, crunchy puffs of...well, I'm not exactly sure what those crunchy puffs are. A pure, American junk food complete with residual orange finger tips. Glorious Side A.

Side A of getting older is also glorious because you're GETTING OLDER. You know the alternative - not so glorious. Being alive is a good thing. You get to be present with the ones you love and hug them and kiss them and hear their voice and see them. All really good things. Being alive means you get to eat warm brownies and build a snowman with your boys and crank the Kings of Leon in your car and feel sand beneath your feet and laugh till tears come from your eyes and write books. Again, all really, really good things ~ all as yummy as the cheesy-goodness of a freshly opened bag of Cheetos.

Ah, but if we have Side A, we must have Side B.

Side B sucks.

Back to the Cheetos. Side B of Cheetos is fairly simple. They are filled with ingredients I can't pronounce which make them toxic and oh so bad for the human body. And speaking of human bodies, that is my Side B of getting older. I long for my 21 year old pre babies body. The body that could eat crap like Cheetos & ice cream & cheeseburgers and still be a size 6. Another Side B of getting older is when 21 year olds look at me as 'old'. It is such a strange experience because I remember being 21 and thinking 40 year olds were, like, so old. And now I am the 40+year old and I so want to politely explain, "I'm really not that old. You'll see. I swear." But I don't want to scare the nice 21 year olds.

I guess the moral of the story is:

Just eat the freakin' Cheetos because you're not getting any younger.

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