See You Next Tuesday: Vol. I, No Four
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall -- whose the most middle-aged of us all?
How does aging happen? Gradually, then suddenly.
One day this summer, I looked in the mirror and I no longer recognized myself. The lines in my forehead, which had been a genteel whisper at 40, were a Munch-like scream at 41. The grey hairs were plentiful, crying out for a root touch-up. And everything from my head to my toes just felt…rounder, and droopier.
After a lifetime of looking younger than my numerical age, time had finally caught up with me. So I did what any well-adjusted, confident woman would do: I had a tiny meltdown on social media.
What can I say? I contain multitudes.