I’m very sexy and young and if I keep telling myself that and lying about my age then I have nothing to worry about.
Thinking about someone being forty when I was just a kid, is like now, thinking of someone being ninety. Age never really bother me and turning thirty was a piece of cake. I was the one who laughed at those turning 30, who thought their lives were ending. Ending? I couldn’t wait another ten years until my kids were old enough to take care of themselves.
And then it happened, just as I was about to turn 40, the fear of death took over and I was paralyzed. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat and I cried for five months. I burrowed in a nest on my couch and didn’t move all winter. The warm weather came and as, I was getting back into things my daughter told me she was pregnant. Being 40 and a grandmother all in one year? What the fuck? Wouldn’t of been better to just give me a gun?
I’m always told that age is just a number and it’s all in how you feel but death does NOT become me and being afraid of it makes each year a little closer. Yes, I feel good, I look good and I can still fuck, thank God, but the fact of the matter is, you’re still getting older.
So, I’ll just keep thinking I’m 30 and everything will be fine.
Right? Right. See who needs therapy? I do.
