I never really worried about getting older. I rather relished the idea of the profound wisdom I was told I'd receive as I aged. Turning thirty bothered me not at all. My 20s had worn me out. My 30s became my "growing up years". The years in which I had my children (2 daughters, 16 months apart) and recognized my parents worth and absolute insanity. They raised 4 daughters that were 6 years apart from start to finish...truly utter lunacy.

I actually thought that 40 wouldn't bother me too much because, after all, haven't we all been told that 40 is the new 30..(can we say denial?!) Honestly, 40 in and of itself didn't bother me until I noticed what forty was doing to me physically. My body seemed to be dragging. And I'm not just talking about energy though, OK, that wasn't what it used to be either but no, I'm talking about my BODY parts quite literally, dragging me down. Because when you get right down to it- GRAVITY SUCKS! 

When I was younger, my ample 34C breasts were a soucre of envy. All the small B and A women were terribly jealous of my round and perky breasts, perfectly centered in the middle of my chest. Twenty years later, two breastfed children and a full size larger...well, let's just say that envy has been replaced by pity. In fact, I am left wondering when the day will arrive that a belt will be a better means of support than my under wire "boulder holder". And let's not forget the definable creases in my shoulders that said boulder holder has left. Also, I have noticed that as my boobs start that inevitable slide downward they have grown on either side a definitive pooch of skin that I term "flabula" that oozes out between my armpit and bra strap. Where between 30 and 40 did that come from?!  

Gravity though, is an equal opportunity source of demoralization. My derriere has not only dropped closer to my knees but age and gravity have also made the fat congeal at the bottom of my backside turning it from round to decidedly pear shaped...not appetizing or edible in the least! And now those lovely arms. Or shall I say flaps? What used to be triceps have now become wings that threaten to send me flying every time I give a spirited wave. And let's not stop there. Let's talk about the biggest organ of all....your skin! It's like that medical alert bracelet ad. You remember the one (if you're old enough...) where the old woman has fallen from her walker, touches her alert bracelet and shouts into her speaker phone, "I've fallen and I can't get up"...That's my skin! It has fallen and it can't get up. The skin over my knees has got an old lady crinkle that no amount of cream or muscle tone can remedy. The skin on my face has given my eyes a "puppy-dog droop" as the corners head south and I'm sure jowels are not far behind. And my neck! my neck would make a Thanksgiving turkey envious! So from top to bottom (literally) and below...face, neck, breasts, butt and knees after 40...Gravity Sucks!