Quite Frankly

I'm about to be really candid.

If you're not into honesty, I suggest you avert your eyes. Go look at this, or this, or this but don't continue reading....

Still there?

Last chance.

Ok, if you're still with me I'm about to admit something really huge.

I'm a 60 year old trapped in a 30 year old's body with a biological age of almost 23 and the childlike sense of joy most often found in a 9 year old.

I swear to God. What else would explain the stiff back, the fear that my gladiolas won't come back next year and the fun I had watching Chicken Little earlier?
Not that it's not a cute movie. It's only the cutest movie that I've ever seen in my entire life, but honestly.. when did the rest of me get so damn old?

Lately the thought of going out to a club to drink and dance and be young is superceded by the thought that if I learned how to knit I could save money on scarves this winter.

Or when someone suggests going shopping, I immediately think, "I need window coverings and throw pillows."

I think I'm doomed.

Ugh. Next stop -- menopause.