There’s no denying it -- but I must admit, even after 2 children, a fun marriage, and a long successful career… I still never thought I’d ever say:
I need bifocals.
And yes, yes, yes, I am happy I have the ability to see. I'm just a little less happy I have confused eyes.
But I guess that's par for the course; I mean my waistline has been confused for a while now -- it thinks it's a muffin top. And my hips don't know what they're doing... it's like they've had a fight and are trying to get as far away from each other as possible. And when hips leave, who suffers? That's right. The poor booty. The booty gets dropped and who's there to pick up the sad dropped booty? Well, it can't be my thighs, they think they're training to win a ham hock competition. Which of course, has my knees super sure that it's OK to sound like someone's doing bad things to bubble wrap every time I stand up or sit down.
Yeah, I'll stop there. That's enough confusion for --
Did I mention I need bifocals?
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