Sorry, Paul Rudd, but THIS is 40

Some of you may recall that I shared what I learned as I turned 40, but now I’m about seven months in, and it’s no Judd Apatow rom-com. Here are seven depressing ways I’ve come to realize that I’m all grownz up:

1. I was at the hair salon the other day, and I chose Redbook over Cosmo. “How to give a great blow job” vs. “How to create a great dessert in under ten minutes.” Blow jobs? People still give those?

2. I remember when we used to meet at the bars at 10. On the very rare occasion that I do go to a concert that starts at about 9, I act like I’m getting ready for a marathon. I’m six red bulls and two five-hour energies in by the time we get there. Let’s do this thing!

3. My purse used to be super cute, with a tube of lipstick and a compact. It now usually contains a diaper with a piece of gum stuck to it, 14 matchbox cars, a half-opened cereal bar, and a pair of boy’s underpants.

4. Hangovers after 40 are a special kind of torture. Forget shots — if I drink a glass of cheap wine, I can’t get out of bed for two days.

5. In my twenties, I wouldn’t have dared to leave the house without looking in the mirror. Now I feel accomplished if I have my teeth brushed. Period. Meth-head hobo wife, yo.

6. I used to dream of traveling to Paris in the springtime and Spain for the running of the bulls. Now I book my travel based on how many kid-care centers there are.

7.  I went on a 7-mile run yesterday and stopped in the porta-potty twice. I can only imagine doing a marathon would be a tour de toilets. Sorry, Paul Rudd, but THIS is 40.

This is 40

I’ve got your 40 right here, assholes.

 

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