I am 45. Because it’s been a while since I’ve confessed something, I’m just puttin’ it out there. While I’m at it, I might as well admit that I never lost the baby weight and my children are 17 and almost 20. I’m at this weird place in life where I’m braver than I have ever been and trying to force myself to try new things which require me to be more scared than I’ve ever been – unless you count the time I cried and begged my parents to leave the Oregon Caves when I was young. Or the time I was locked in the closet. Or maybe when my water broke with my second child. You know, cuz after the first one, you know what’s comin’. Anyhow, I figure now is the best time for being more adventurous since I’m not in adult diapers. So I’m gonna get a little crazy and hope for the best. I’ll keep you posted on my new, adventurous side but not so much on the adult diaper thing. Or the baby weight loss.
I am 45. These are thongs. Daughter (affectionately known as “Dotter”) calls these “flip-flops”. I embarrass myself regularly by not being able to let go of their original name and have learned to use Dotter’s term when googling.
I am 45. My head goes up and down often. I have determined that I need bifocals.
I am 45. I am a misfit. I have never seen a single Star Wars movie. I had promised I would by my birthday but, well, life took over so I’ll have to postpone and be a misfit for a little longer. Anyone who talks about adult diapers on their blog probably doesn’t have much hope of being normal anyhow.
I am 45. I was not taught to recycle. I was taught to stop littering because it makes Indians cry.
I am 45. I invent new slang for teenagers who refuse to use it. Like the word “crisp”. Catchy, right? Okay, try stretching it out a bit. “Criiiiiisp”. Pass it on.
I am 45. I remember Michael Jackson when he was in black and white. See what I did there? I know. I’m sorry. I blame it on the boogie.
I am 45. The metric system is coming any day. Thank you, Mr Kellogg. Because of you, I learned half of the metric system and I know that I am thousands of kilometers away from being one mean plastic recorder player.
I am 45. I still don’t know jack about the game of jacks. I feel guilty because I don’t get it. I blame it on too much television.
I am 45. My parents owned every ugly car that ever existed. I still cringe whenever I see a Pinto, Pacer, or a Gremlin.
I am 45. I am seriously considering Spanx. It’s a peer pressure thing. All the other bloggers are doing it. Besides, it balances out my love for Nutella. And homemade whipped cream. And my office chair. Note to self. Look up times for the next Zumba class at the community center.
I am 45. I have seen the end of the world come and go at least four times. I may or may not have filled my bathtub with water – just in case – on December 31, 1999.
I am 45. Forty-five means the best is yet to come. Or as Dotter summed it up this week, “At least you’re not 50 yet.”
I am 45. I will be okay. I will be okay. I will be okay.
LOL. You make me laugh. I turned 45 in December. I too, remember when Michael Jackson was in black & white. I have considered Spanx. I don’t know a thing about the metric system, other than 750ml of beer is equivalent to 25.4 ounces, or about 3-1/2 well-filled glasses. Cheers to you!
46 here. Wait…mental arithmetic underway…yes, that’s right. I’m 46. I could relate to every word of your post. I have an 18 year old and 20 year old who frequently point out my inappropriate use of words like Thong. And Clicker. “Remote” is apparently the more modern term, especially since it doesn’t click anymore. There’s Spanx in my dresser, but that’s as close as it’s come to my person. Life’s too short to encase myself like a sausage.
51 here so I’m sorry kids but those will always be thongs. Or how about zories? Does anyone else remember calling them that? We decorated Easter eggs two days early and left them as pretty decorations on the table before eating them Easter morning. I rode all the way to Disneyland STANDING in the back of my family’s Oldsmobile on the hump in the floor. I am still alive and here to make sure my kids refrigerate food properly and buckle up every time we head to the grocery store to get more. Has the world become such a more dangerous place?
It’s okay, I’m 50.
oh bella, have you ever seen Absolutely Fabulous (AbFab…british comedy)? – totally gave me a flashback of the episode when the main character turns 40….so hilarious. I have to post it when I turn 40 (next year!) but until then I must dig it up and get the link to you!!! You are fabulously vintage dahling, dan-ger-ous! sizzlin!!! the prime of your youth!!! things are just gettin started!!! 45 is the new 30 🙂 and i call them thongs too. YOU MUST SEE STAR WARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Empire Strikes Back is a fav, the wampa is criiiiisp! I’m tryin to get the workout routine going…I admit I’ve been a little intermittent the last week and a half after really getting off to a good start…but I know I won’t regret it if I can just suck it up and stay consistent for at least 40 days…they say it takes 40 days now to form a habit…40 days!!! I thought it was like half that…now I gotta go twice as long to get my brain on board….sigh. ok, we can do this. we can do this!
Life begins at 50 Deanna – so it’s okay 🙂