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February 27, 2014 / MissSteele

Wrinkles, Shminkles! Where’s the Wine?

This morning, I awoke to a text message from a close friend of mine that read, “I went to the gym drunk.”

First of all, I did not shame her for this because how in the hell else are we supposed to make exercise fun? Going to the gym drunk is the only way to go in my opinion. Still, this was a statement that needed some elaboration, so I asked, “What?”

“I started to freak out last night about the prospect of growing older. We are getting so old! I mean- our 10-year reunion will be in the next couple of years!”

Ugh. She was right. We are getting old. I feel it too, I just try to suppress my worries of wasted youth with things like antidepressants and wine, which is apparently what she decided to do except she forgot the part about not working out while drunk as to not sweat out said wine.

“I almost fell off the machine. Twice. I guess I was drunker than I thought.”

I was just glad she didn’t fall off the treadmill, as it would have launched her into the wall behind her like a giant, well-oiled sling shot. That probably would have damped her mood further.

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I’m so drunk right now!

I could have tried to convince her she was being silly by saying, ‘Well, getting older is better than the alternative!’ or ’30 is the new 20!’ or some other clever little anecdote. But, I honestly couldn’t bring myself to say anything soothing to her. It was everything I could do not to send her a text back that said, “You are right! The grip of old-age has reached us! We will be dead soon!”

Luckily, I managed not to say that. I just sympathized with her, as I understand how she feels. I’m not even going to touch on the subject of quarter-life crisis again but let’s just say that son-of-a-bitch and I go way back.

“After I got home, I looked in the mirror and started crying because I know I am going to start getting wrinkles soon!” she said.

Obviously, her sense of wrinkle-terror was heightened by the alcohol she had consumed. She doesn’t normally stare at herself in the mirror and cry. I hope.

I could have told her, “Woman, you are a beautiful, smart, successful person. You have a loving husband, a gorgeous house, and a great job. Don’t let such little things bother you. It is a privilege to grow old, and we are doing it gracefully.”

I could have said any of those things to her because all of those things are true. But, I didn’t. I just said, “I KNOW! I HAD TO MARK MYSELF INTO A NEW AGE BRACKET THE OTHER DAY! I’M PRACTICALLY MIDDLE-AGED ACCORDING TO THIS STUPID SURVEY!”

Wasn’t that helpful? I thought so.

Then, I grabbed my coffee. I would have reached for the wine, but it was 7 o’clock in the morning and my dog was in the kitchen with me and she is very judgmental about that sort of thing.

Bitch.

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