Everyone’s heard of the ‘Terrible Twos.” (I remember mine fondly, I threw some EPIC tantrums– very cathartic.) What no one prepares you for are the “Terrible 40′s.” They are pure hell.
For some idiotic reason, my mom, when she should’ve been researching suitable old folks homes, decided it was time to have a baby. She was 40.
Obviously, her biological clock keeps shitty time.
That means when she’s hitting menopause, I’ll be just entering my early teens. Hey, might be a blessing in disguise, she’ll probably be too disoriented from hot flashes to notice that I pierced my tongue.
Seriously, there’s nothing quite so off-putting as begging your mom to carry you and then hearing her bones creak when she picks you up. I have half a mind to spray her elderly ass down with WD-40.
And it’s not just her impending arthritis. I found out recently that she dyes her hair! Yes, my mommy has some gray hairs. If what I’ve gleaned from fairy tales is true that can only mean one thing: She is a witch. No big surprise really, you should see how she acts when I use her new lipstick as a crayon. Freaking scary.