Five reasons why getting old sucks

It's been a slow morning at the Sanchez household. Coming off a Superbowl weekend, all of us are stone tired, and I, not sure how I managed it, was able to laze about the house for a better part of the morning. Sweet!

As I was hosing down in the shower, cursing at the dullness of my razor and its inability to give me a smooth shave, I had an epiphany. It wasn't just the razor that was having a hard time functioning that was the problem. It was my damn aging body that was making things difficult. It was that realization that spurred today's blog post.

Five reasons why getting old sucks:

1. The constant battle to stay smooth. Sigh...what I wouldn't give to go back in time when my skin was soft, supple, and only required shaving every few days to stay smooth. As I've gotten older, I've been cursed with some sort of odd condition that's made the hair on my legs liken themselves to two-by-fours. Seriously, I'm considering investing in some sort of hack saw with which to chop down the forest. Someone ought to patent some sort of cream or shit that halts hair growth on the limbs of older women. Call it No-Gro. No shit, you'd make a million. I'd buy stock in your company. Get at it!

2. My inability to process dairy foods- Bloating. Stomach aches. Nuff said.

3. Falling boobage- Look...I don't have my head in the clouds. Never have. I'm perfectly aware that no one's ever referred to my twins as "ample." But still, there was a time, many, many, many...ah who am I kidding? Light years ago, I once had a set of perky fun bags that didn't sag into my armpits the minute I laid down on my back. Thank the Lord for Victoria's Secret and their many over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders that lift, form, mold and hide the many imperfections of the older woman's boobs.

4. Narcolepsy- Well, okay...I don't really suffer from this. But damn, I can barely stay up past nine without my eyes feeling like they are crossing. When Ryan and I were dating, we'd stay out till four am...ahem...nevermind.

5. People referring to me as...gasp...choke..."Ma'am." Pardon me for just a sec, I need to go throw up in my mouth. Ugh! I'm thirty-eight for craps sake. While I'm certainly surfing through my middle years, I'll be damned if I let the younger generation refer to me as Methuselah. What's that you said? Hold up...let me just add another battery to my hearing aid.