When my husband turned forty, I had a t-shirt made for him with this slogan. I thought I was so clever, so cute.
Ha! Ha! Ha! Jokes on me now.
One day recently I woke up and it had happened. I had achieved middle adulthood. This, my friends, is how I knew it had happened. Definitively.
- A nurse came to my home to collect samples of urine and blood for life insurance rates;
- I have dish gloves that coordinate with my kitchen decor;
- I can quote the cost of a gallon of milk, a pound of beef, and a dozen eggs — organic and non-organic, yo;
- All the younguns in the office wear maxi dresses and it really annoys me that they don’t understand this simply isn’t done;
- My husband offered to sit with the kid so I could go get a pedicure and I opted for a nap instead;
- I have three separate wardrobes in my closet — skinny (that is literally dusty), fat, and knit;
- I splurge on sheets rather than shoes;
- I have opinions about Tupperware and am happy to share and discuss;
- I watch Real World Schaumburg just to keep up with what the kids are doing these days;
- I remind my readers about the importance of moisturizing their necks more than is necessary or polite;
- My husband got socks and no-wrinkle shirts for Father’s Day.
See? It’s happened. Middle adulthood. Sigh.