My doctor recently told me the warranty expires at 40. He is right. I’m falling apart. I am old.
I believe my 40th birthday triggered the release of the Age Hormone, which instantly accelerates biological deterioration. It may not be the same for everyone. Maybe my particular situation exacerbated the effect.
I gave birth to twins a year ago. I didn’t work out much during my pregnancy because my doctor ordered me to sit on the couch and only occasionally make a slow shift from laying on my right side to laying on my left. That doesn’t burn a lot of calories. It doesn’t build a lot of muscle. But it did keep the babies in the womb until they were fully developed.
So then the twins were born. I was fatigued and overwhelmed. Suddenly, I had two colicky babies who, it seemed, did not enjoy a happy moment the first three months of their lives. And of course, that did not grant ample time for spinning, yoga, pilates or Charles Atlas Dynamic Tension muscle-building.
Now I just turned flippin’ 40, I’m back at work, Age Hormones are assaulting the core of my being, and I still don’t have a single, bloody moment to try to battle my body’s descent into debilitating old age.
I love the idea of living a jam-packed life full of goodness and health, but that big 4-0 greets me when I wake and rides me like a quarter horse all day long. Even on the weekends, caring for the kids all day and doing chores leads me to the couch, exhausted, sipping a glass of wine, slowly shifting from laying on my right side to laying on my left.
Some say the mind is the first thing to go. Don’t even get me started on that. This morning The Editor and I were discussing his edits to my work and I couldn’t even think of a clever way of saying, “Back the &#@* off!”