It's official, folks. I've arrived at Middle Age. While out shopping yesterday, I bought a magazine because it had recipes advertised on the front. 20 Delicious Chicken Dinners! Really, who could resist? I remember back in the good ol' days, when I bought Cosmo. In fact, at one time I had every issue for two straight years. I was a Cosmo girl. I read all the fun, young magazines. Now? I can't relate to any of it. I am not fun. I am not young. Sigh. The most crucial decisions in my life no longer have to do with the shade of my eyeshadow. Headlines on front covers that scream "Secrets of Powerful Orgasms" make me tired. The models look like starving orphans to me. Must be all the energy they are burning off, having all those powerful orgasms. Maybe they need some of my new chicken recipes!
Next thing you know, I'll be buying fiber drinks and denture glue. It's all downhill from here. Sigh.