Aging is something that we wish that we can do gracefully. Unfortunately, it’s not like going through puberty where you can pick up a guide that details what to expect and is mostly one size fits all. After puberty, it’s like “Okay, suckers! You’re on your own! Enjoy the other weird hormonal shit that no one talks about until you hit menopause!”
Every 3-5 years, starting at age 30, you should receive an anonymous handbook that outlines some of the most common and least common things you should expect. No one told me that apple juice could rock my world for a solid 48 hours after ingesting. No one told me that your eyebrows aren’t going to grow as fast but you might find yourself having to manicure a beard more often than your husband does. No one tells you that you will not want to stay at a bar or club past 10pm on a Saturday night, even if you have nothing pressing happening on Sunday morning.
I referred to the heel height on a shoe as a moderate but thoughtful height recently. This is coming from the girl that would wear the tallest shoes she could find, even if it meant buying them from the same places that entertainers bought their height regulated footwear.
I have a section of cardigans that takes up about ½ of a rack in my closet. In all colors. All densities.
For work, I have dressy t-shirts, tank tops, thin cardigans, and silky palazzo pants that mix and match because I am now that person that realizes that it’s the adult way to get to wear pajamas to work without anyone questioning it.
Don’t even get me started on what happens if I wear non-cotton underwear for too many days in a row OR the demons I have had to fight after ditching birth control two years ago. It’s not pretty.
I only have one piece of advice for all of this: Don’t WebMD any of the weird things your body does.
thelivelymind.com 
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