OK...so my birthday is coming up...can I just say that I hate my birthday?! If we take a short walk down memory lane, I used to remember birthday's as being so exciting with the anticipation of “The Day” being a lot of excruciatingly long days filled with dreams of the new Strawberry Shortcake doll or a new pony! You just knew that on your day, a bunch of toys and birthday cake was coming your way, and usually on your birthday, the odds of getting your ass chewed was like a million to one. It was a great day. Let's fast forward to today....instead of a Coach bag, I will probably get some major appliance as my major birthday present; I have to say that getting a blender for your birthday is just not right...not right at all. Not to mention that the infamous birthday cake and I are definitely at odds since the Holiday Binge of 2011, and it is just a given that I will probably get my ass chewed at any given time, whether it is my birthday or not (family and managers have zero regard for birthday ass chewing etiquette), so seriously why bother? It is just another day right? I was trying to explain that very fact to my skin today as I was using that damn 20x mirror...those mirrors should be outlawed, BTW but with my eyes going to crap, an old fart needs to use the freaking' magnifying glass from hell just to put on eyeliner. What a depressing scene right? So as I was staring at my laugh lines in the mirror, all the while cursing the stupid Neutrogena anti wrinkle cream ad for selling me a bunch of lies ( there really is no such thing as rapid wrinkle repair...ask my forehead, it will tell you in great detail), I was trying to remember what young skin looked like...seriously...I am a nut job. I had to take a step back and chuckle because I was obsessing over it like a school girl crushes over the hot totally unavailable high school quarter back. I found myself thinking about my laugh lines throughout the day, and whenever I looked in a normal mirror, of course without any witnesses, I found myself nose to nose with it checking out the state of my old ass skin. I am a certifiable crazy person...just issue me an I Love Me jacket and I am right there with all of the other delusional wacko's. So, the elephant in the room question is...why am I obsessing over this aging thing? I should be happy that as I get older, my life is getting better right? I am definitely in a better financial situation than when I was in my 20's/30's', I have a great family, my daughter is awesome BUT I have to tell ya...the only time that anyone glances my way, is if I have cake on my face or my fly is down...it is definitely NOT because I have “my Jennifer Aniston on” ( that is my term for a certain hotness factor...Angelina Jolie is so 2010! Ha!) Honestly that is really what is bothering the crap out of me...I have come to the realization that it just goes down hill from here...I need to try to embrace my laugh lines, crows feet, and age spots with as much dignity as I can muster and with a little help from my facialist , I just might make it past my birthday without drinking myself into an age induced stupor; laying off the tequila would probably help my skin tone, but I am NOT seriously that desperate to give up martini's for the sake of a few crows feet! A girl's got limits...on the other hand, I might just have a full out hissy fit which would totally help out my mental state but would probably NOT be helping my anger brow problem ( those are what I cause those nasty forehead creases ). I will have to think on the ramifications of that approach...hmmmmmmm to hissy or not to hissy THAT is the real question. Yeah...I am betting on the full on hissy fit....so much easier...so much easier!