I got this in the mail today and immediately checked to make sure my subscription expires soon, because there is nothing about their redesign that doesn’t make me feel old as fuck.
You get your bullshit font RIGHT the hell off my lawn! *shakes fist* Hmph — YOUTHS!
My friends are better than your friends. (Unless my friends ARE your friends. In which case, lucky you.)
First OkCupid message from a 26-year-old: “Well you seem like a great person to get to know. But i know you might think about it because of my age but if you know most older guys act like little kids and well i am more mature and i do like older women”
Does anyone want to be called an “older woman?” This is not flattering to me. I’m not geriatric, you little shit. I’m not eating cheesecake with Blanche and Dorothy out on the lanai. (Though that’d be amazing and IS my retirement plan.)
My profile specifies no one under 35 — twice. Clearly he saw that. But obviously what you want supersedes what I want.
Capitalize your fucking “i”s and get off my lawn.
It just seems rude that my face is capable of having wrinkles AND a pimple.
Really, Nature? Blow me.
This morning I managed to hurt my back loading the dishwasher, which gives me high hopes for my body’s ability to withstand the kind of sex it needs to have.
I look forward to the level of self-assurance/not giving a fuck of the older woman I just saw. Thirty years ago, she likely had a chest larger than my D cup. And today, she embraced her inner Elsa and just let it go — strapless cotton sundress, no bra.
I’m not even hating. Bless your heart, honey, you’ve earned it.
Email to Lady Friends…
Subj: “Tonight I had wine and saw infomercials”
“Thank the gods of finance that I’m already in bed and am too tired to go fetch my credit card. (I saw photos from this past weekend and my face has more lines than a singles bar on ladies’ night.)
“BUT LOOK AT ALL THE SCIENCE WORDS!!!!!”
I don’t know what y’all talk about at work…
Coworker: “I need a dermatologist to help me understand how I can have wrinkles and acne. Mother Nature is a cruel mistress.”
Me: “Yeah, I have that, too. It’s adorable. I find myself believing ads for wrinkle cream. And then I hate myself because ‘aging is natural and we should embrace it.’ I am a terrible, terrible feminist.”
Coworker: “I know. But can’t we have equal rights and feel pretty? I want both.”
Me: “Exactly. Lean In…to Botox.”