Why is that? Shouldn’t all the woman books have said something about the black chin hairs we will get as we enter our fourth decade of life? Those ones that hurt like hell when you try to pluck them out and often miss because you can’t see for shit anymore now that you’re old? Mine get so bad sometimes that I have to ask my Husband to pluck them for me.
Yes, ladies, this is what you have to look forward to as you age. And pimples.
What. The. Fuck. PIMPLES?!?! I’m not a damn teenager and even when I was I didn’t have any so why in the hell do I have them now??
Mother Nature is a real psycho bitch.
I’m digressing. I tend to do that more frequently now.
I am wiser now than I was twenty years ago. I am also a wife and mother. But I really don’t feel much different. I often ask myself, “when will I start feeling like an adult?” Of course, what does it feel like to be an adult? I always thought I would get some blaring epiphany when it happened — suddenly there would be this bright glowing light and all the answers for the uncertainties of my world would be immediately placed in my brain.
That has never happened.
Well, not yet, anyway.
No, what I have for my 41 years of life is a lot of knowledge that is sometimes random or useless, an insane need for justice, a husband who I occasionally want to bang upside the head with my cast iron skillet and one beautiful, amazing and often incredibly frustrating almost seven-year old daughter. I’m not well off, we don’t yet own our own house and we sometimes struggle to make ends meet, but I am happy. And so is my family. Even when I bitch about momentary hiccups and injustices, I’m still happy. I have bad days just like everyone else. That’s life.
Maybe feeling like a grown-up is different for everyone. I sure don’t feel how I thought I would, though. And I really could do without pimples and stubborn chin hairs.
And the grey hair. I found some in my eyebrows. I guess I need to start dying them now, too.
But this feeling of being an adult? I’m not sure if that even exists. I go on and live each day as I should — I take care of my family, work on my graphic design business and occasionally slap up a blog post or two. I worry about things. I laugh at things — often at inappropriate times. And I love. I love my daughter. I love my Husband. And I love my life. Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes it’s hard. But it’s all mine.
So happy 41st birthday to me, black chin hairs and all.