I Am . . . . The "F" Word!

Last year I could ignore it. This year I can't.

By virtue of the year I was born, I am now, officially, The "F" Word. I can't even say it. My sons won'' even entertain the idea. They know better. When they find me staring quietly into my coffee cup, looking as if I have seen the end of the world, they pat my back and whisper "Why is it so rough for your to be 25?" We all know it is not so. We also know that I can pass for 32 to 36 on most days, but lately I can't ignore it. I am the "F" Word.

I tell myself that no amount of crying, being depressed, and complaining can change the date of my birth, so I should just let it go. Age is just a number. But the fact is I became the "F" Word much more quickly than I was prepared to.

When I was a teen, and I had the great body (You will just have to take my word for it. I did. At least as I remember it.) my mother wouldn't let me wear the clothes that truly showed it off. She said I had a lot of time for that when I was older. Now I'm older, confident in my sexuality, and I'm not supposed to wear those clothes because I don't want to look pathetic. As Chris Rock says when a woman gets my age, "Those are his titties," meaning my man's. They are not the "world's titties" like they are when a woman is 20. Do I believe Chris Rock? I don't know.

So I don't know what to wear.

My body is slowly betraying me. My metabolism slowed down (or something). I am probably one and a half times the person I was when I was 20. Enter the Abs Diet, this summer, which promises that I will have flat, sexy Abs by the middle of July. I have two weeks to go; they are flatter, maybe sexier (?) but they are definitely not they abs on the cover of the magazine. We'll see. I continue to persevere. I'll tell you how it goes.

You will enjoy the story about my last trip to Walgreen's.

I have no idea who I am anymore. Well, that's not true. I am realizing myself daily. That's actually one good thing about this decade in my life, but I battle constantly with who I am, who I was, and who I am becoming. Questions like the following dog me daily: Should I even be doing this at my age? Was my mom as young as I am when she was my age? How come I didn't know? What does age have to do with it anyway? If I do that/buy that/like that, am I turning into one of those crazy middle aged women who I hate? Do I care? Should I care?

Therefore, I have decided to explore this time of my life and process it before it processes me. It feels like puberty backwards. Instead of being too young and not being able to dress the way I want, and do the things I want. All the while wondering when the boys will like me. I'm having a hard time dressing the way I want, and doing the things I want, all the while wondering when I'm going to get too old and the boys will stop liking me.

I wish someone would have told me that it would come so soon.

Stay tuned.

The F Word