Joining The Ranks Of The Lame Bloggers

Blogging is therapy, blogging is therapy. Unloading my crap onto unsuspecting people is therapy. Gee, I feel better already. 

I've realized that I'm officially at an age that older generations are willing to accept that I'm capable of having a degree of wisdom and therefore are willing to engage in my moments of reflection. Which unfortunately means for younger generations, I'm just another old bitch. Whatever.

First of all I'll get this out of the way from go, I don't like being 34. I feel like I'm in 8th grade again and my peg just doesn't fit anywhere. Sorry, it does NOT count that your own kids think your cool just because you know all of the words to Rob Bass' It Takes Two.

I sort of went through a mid-life crisis last year and it was disastrous. *Snickers like Sheldon* I said "went" as if this thing has already passed. Correction, I'm going through a mid-life crisis only this year has been much better than the last.

Women's mid-life crisis are much different from men's. I don't give a damn about fast cars or hairlines. I think I'm just petrified of "losing it", whatever "it" is. I see Sofia Vergara and I wanna slap that bitch. Or make out with her. See? I'm losing my frigging mind. Point is, I have become aware that I'm not 21 anymore and I hate it.

When my husband tells me he thinks I'm sexy it always makes me cringe a little. I worry that he's saying it because I smell desperate for compliments or something. I feel like the psycho chick with the smeared lipstick and mascara keeping some guy chained in the basement asking him, "DO I LOOK PRETTY?!"

These thoughts usually pass and I'm back to my NORMAL crazy self again. And I do know that my hubby loves me and he probably, genuinely thinks I'm sexy. What I'm having a hard time coming to grips with is how I see myself NOW as opposed to how I used to see myself. I'm not gonna lie, I used to be banging hot. Four kids later, I've become...squishy.

I also realized that I'm not as interesting to talk to anymore. When I was younger, every day was a new day full of war stories from the night before. People actually LIKED talking to me. I've become so sarcastic (because of my aging and reflection and understanding reality and such) that I usually just piss people off when I open my mouth.

I know the only way I'm going to get through this is to move forward and find ways to enjoy being 34. Hanging onto to 21 isn't helping and it isn't healthy. Oh, and everyone needs to stop being funnier and hotter than me. Like NOW.