Do I Dare Eat A Peach?

Here’s how I know I am old.

I thought Madonna rocked it at halftime. I think she earned the Super Bowl and Lady GaGa will get her chance.

Given the choice between a diamond ring and a dishwasher, dishwasher wins hands-down.

Just the thought of high heels makes my feet throb.

I can’t stand Katie Perry. I think all her songs sound the same and she’s a lousy role model for girls.

I have chin hairs. Just three, but still.

I don’t tweet.

I secretly read Family Circle and Woman’s Day magazines for the crock pot recipes and the tips on getting a better night’s sleep, loosing weight and saving money–none of which I seem to be able to do.

I like jigsaw puzzles. I like 500 to 750 pieces, but occasionally will shoot for 1,000.

I drink low sodium V-8 juice.

My eyelids are drooping, along with a number of other body parts.

AARP keeps sending me stuff in the mail, which I promptly rip up.

I ask my kids to pick things up off the floor for me so I won’t have to bend down.

And sometimes when my head hits the pillow at night it feels, for just a split second, like I’m dying.

 

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4 Comments

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4 responses to “Do I Dare Eat A Peach?

  1. We’ll get you on Twitter yet!

  2. You’re not even close to dying until the hot flashes stop.

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