As If I Haven’t Put My Body Through Enough… Now Aging Happens!

At this point, I feel like my body and I are in a long-term relationship — and she’s that unpredictable partner who likes to test my loyalty just when I start feeling stable. Like, girl, haven’t I done enough? I’ve carried babies, survived sleepless nights, and gone through surgically induced menopause at twenty-four. Twenty-four! I thought, “Cool, got that out of the way early. One less life crisis to deal with.”

Yeah… no. There’s a reason God doesn’t hand out menopause while you still have babies at home. Let me paint the picture: I was juggling toddlers, hormones, and emotions that could power a Category 5 storm — all while trying not to melt into a puddle on my kitchen floor. One minute I was crying at a cereal commercial, and the next, I was rearranging furniture like I was on an episode of Extreme Home Makeover: Hormone Edition.

But I survived. I made it through the Great Menopause of 24. I thought I had earned my badge, completed the level, beat the boss. Then I hit my 40s… and my body was like, “You know what? Let’s spice it up!” All of a sudden, my warranty had expired and all of my lights were flashing!

I swear it was like my hormones woke up one day and said, Plot twist! Suddenly, I’m riding emotional waves I didn’t even know existed. One day I feel unstoppable — glowing, confident, borderline majestic — and the next day I’m Googling “why do I want to cry and laugh at the same time?”

And let’s talk about metabolism. Remember when you could eat a full pizza and still button your jeans? Yeah, now I just look at a bagel and gain three pounds. I can drink water and somehow retain it like my body’s trying to survive a desert apocalypse. My stomach used to be flat — now it’s shaped like “loves comfort and carbs.”

Also, my joints? They sound like an old creaky house every time I get up. I can predict the weather better than the local news just by standing up too fast.

And don’t even get me started on skin. My face is simultaneously dry and oily. Wrinkles are showing up in places I didn’t even know could fold. If I laugh too hard, I need recovery time — not emotionally, but physically.

The worst part? Nobody warned me that aging feels like your body updating its software — but the new version comes with bugs and no tech support. You just wake up one day with new aches, random allergies, and a strong opinion about fiber.

But here’s the kicker — as much as I joke, there’s this weird kind of peace that’s come with it all. I care less about what people think and more about how I feel. I’ve stopped apologizing for taking up space, for saying no, or for being “too much.” Because, honestly, after everything this body has endured and survived, it deserves a little respect — even if it’s held together by caffeine, collagen, and prayer.

Getting older isn’t glamorous. It’s messy, hilarious, humbling, and honestly… kind of empowering. It’s like my body’s way of saying, If you can survive all this, girl, you can survive anything.

So yeah — as if I hadn’t already put this body through enough, now aging happens. But I’m here for it. I’ve earned every scar, every laugh line, every crack and creak. And if my body wants to keep throwing curveballs, fine. I’ll just keep swinging — with my fan on high, electrolytes in hand, and a wildly inappropriate sense of humor to get me through.

Because let’s be real — getting older isn’t for the weak… but it sure does make for some darn good stories.