acceptance, self care

good as hell

I am turning 40 in less than a month. FORTY YEARS OLD! This age has a rather special way of making women feel like they are quickly approaching their Last Fuckable Day. It is the age of invisibility. The age of the middle. When our 60s start to feel closer than our 20s. And if you are single, it’s an especially vulnerable number. Turning 40 as a childless-by-choice, single woman is like stepping one foot in the grave. Meryl Streep is in the grave next to you and she’s like “Come on in, the water is warm.” Right? Isn’t that what we are supposed to believe? I’m about to turn invisible and die and my vagina is going to dry up and close down? I will literally be unfuckable! I might as well move to a farm in Japan with the other spinsters and learn how to garden and knit (seriously though Japan is like all about that Golden Girls life, they are doing it right.) We ALL think this, at least subconsciously. If like me, you have been successful in breaking your brain out of this toxic fuckboy matrix brainwashing, you may be sitting around in your Sunday kimono asking how we got here.¬†Where did this self defeating, damaging, blatantly untrue mindfuck come from? Did we all sign some blood contract in our newborn days that we’d collectively agree that women become patently less valuable based on the number of grey hairs and wrinkles we have? I didn’t sign…

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