When I was 35 and 8 days old, I discovered a bunion on my foot. Yes, a bunion. The world's most disgusting.word.ever. I can't believe I'm even admitting to it. I convinced myself that my feet were just getting skinnier. And the bones were protruding. When I was 35 and 9 days old, I glared at it. I did this instead of reading books to the children. I didn't even feed them. Eh. Who can eat when your mom has a bunion anyway? At the end of 35 and 10 days old, I realized that I will be asking Lillian to rub my bunion. For a quarter. A whole quarter! I'll just call her Rusty. For this story's sake. And I'll give
My children have sucked the life out of my boobs. And pooped it right out. My boobs have gone right into the Diaper Genie II. That bitch. Some genie you are.
There are spider veins on my thighs. My thighs and I? We were just starting to get along. And spiders? We've always gotten along! What have I ever done to you? But let you live in my home. And eat my pests. Children included. Now? You suck. I'm stamping out every single one of you. From this day forward. You can mark it in your calendar, 35 years and 11 days old. Bitches. I'd be happy to have a mosquito bite me in the boob right about now. Who needs you Mrs. Spider!
My gray hair is multiplying like our children. I used to blame it on Sean. He rubs his head against mine while I'm sleeping at night. I swear that he does. Now I blame it on the children. And my boobs. And the spiders. And the fact that I'm 35 and 11 days old.
So what do I love about 35? I love that I don't care so much about what other people think of me. I love my family. I love my kids. I love my husband. I love my job. Even if my bosses are constantly full of shit. Whose aren't? I love my home. I love my life. And...I love my butt. Especially since I make an ass out of myself. Every.single.day. But who cares? I'm 35. And 11 days old.
|Take that 35.|
|And the butt that I love so much. Okay, so maybe it's not really mine. But it's totally awesome right?|