My birthday – the 39th – is soon to arrive. I like the fact that I have to think about my age before stating it. Let’s see…I was born in 1970 and it’s 2009, so that means I’m… Age just doesn’t come up that much once you’re past losing your baby teeth, being able to drive, then vote, then drink (legally). And also if you don’t sweat it. Once I became an adult (which I count from my 30th birthday onward) (I’m a late bloomer for some things) (I also procrastinate a lot), my age went into a statis that it hasn’t left. I just am.
So I think I have a pretty healthy view of age/aging. Until yesterday when I received in the mail a catalog called “As We Change.” Yeah, it’s a catalog of crap for women who are going through some combination of horny 40s and menopause. Because the non-clothing items vary from “personal massagers” with a number of different tips to a “pelvic floor trainer” to a girdle that has butt padding (I really need that one). Then the clothing features things like a “moisture control gown” (for those pesky night sweats), a sleep bra (?) and cellulite pants you wear under your regular pants.
I do most of my Christmas shopping online, so who knows what purchase put me on the “change” list. All I can say is, not dead yet.