If Mama Cass and “Maude” had a 61 year old baby, I’d be theirs.
I swear to God, I do not recognize the person looking back at me in the mirror anymore.
I finally got outta the house last evening, and went to dinner with a few (petite, argh!) neighbors. Getting dressed I tried on a few blouses. The colorful Floridian blouse was first. I thought, spring, colorful, happy, yeah? Hell NO! Who made this, Omar? Worse yet, who bought this and what were they thinking?? So I went with my go to dark blue, loose, non clingy shirt. At least I’ll be comfortable. Heaven forbid someone pulls out their camera, the dark blue will be better than bright Floridian Golden Girls special. Ok, I can do this. Just go have a few laughs, nice meal, etc…
So we get to the restaurant, all’s good. We go to sit down in a booth, and I graciously let skinny butt #1 slide in first. Oh, I’m such a nice person, not! Selfishly, I don’t want to be sardined into the corner. I’ll take the outside, “long legs!” That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. Although, the fatter I get, the shorter my legs seem. Has my ass has fallen or slid halfway down my thighs? (All these young girls who love their big Kim Kardashian butts are in for a very rude awakening when their estrogen levels plummet! MC Hammer pants may make a comeback after all!)
Okay, enough of my butt. Next up, my face. So as I sit in this cozy 4 person booth, I look up and I’m greeted by my own unrecognizable reflection in the newly installed Covid plexiglass booth divider. Crap. Holy shite, I look like hell. Don’t look, just don’t look. I try to fluff up my hair a bit, that’ll help. Not! Geeze, maybe I should’ve put on some makeup! Can’t be bothered… just don’t look. Hey if I position my head just so, I can’t see my carb face! That’s it. Relax, crack a few jokes, you can do this!
Waitress: Here’s some bread…
Me: Do you have any Ham sandwiches?
Xo, Kate
Learned in nursing school that gall bladder disease => “Fair, fat, and 40”. I’ve made it to 61 with my gall bladder intact! Next topic for another day: Urinary bladders!!

I just learned that having tomatoes in any form at dinner can cause bountiful nocturnal bathroom trips for my 63-year-old bladder and me. I’ve finally learned to like tomatoes and suddenly, they’re not what’s for dinner anymore. What wicked sorcery is this?
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News to me! I’ll keep this in mind.
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