Tell me congratulations!
my birthday's tomorrow.
On January 7!
The year is 2023, I was born in 1980, so I will be 43 years old. And that's exactly the calculation I do in my head every time I'm asked how old I am, because I simply don't remember anymore.
I spend more time in the hospital than in bars.
It's not that hard, I spend more time in most places than in bars.
In fact, if you look at an annual average, I spend more time cleaning the slots of the blender with a toothpick than I do the bars, which is very rewarding, because then you have a clean blender.
What's more, it's an activity that doesn't require me to dress nicely.
In general, I noticed that I'm only willing to dress nicely if I'm paid.
Okay, that doesn't sound good, but second, for my shows I dress really nice!
It's just that the rest of the time I'm dressed like I "crawled out of a dumpster" (exact quote from my mom).
If there is a substitute kindergarten teacher when I come to pick up the little one, she must ask the others: "Tell me, is it okay for the girl to go with this homeless girl?" ".
I will be the first influencer of skull in hair and pants with bleach stains.
Three blood tests a year.
Tap tap, I'm perfectly fine, it's just that before the first test I forgot that I was supposed to be fasting and drank coffee.
Before the second test I forgot that I had forgotten and drank coffee again.
On the third test I drank a sip of coffee and spat it out.
I told the doctor that if it turns out that I have diabetes, it's probably a mistake, but in any case I'd rather inject insulin than come for the fourth time.
The doctor rolled her eyes and prescribed me calcium, because at some point my bones will crumble to dust.
If only we can arrange for it to happen before the helper comes?
Every time I say how old I am, people look at my face and say, "Wow, you don't look forty-something," and then they reach for my neck.
And apparently the neck is like children - only the other way around.
You can tolerate everyone else's, except your own.
And it's not that I have anything in principle against plastic surgery, I just don't want to look like this woman.
Because it always starts gently, in a small way, "Take it, light candles", "Come, do Shabbat with us".
Then boom - you're walking around the street with a syringe stuck in your forehead.
Age 43 is a problem: young people call you old, old people call you young.
In any case, no one wants to hear your opinion.
The only ones who have to listen to me are my friends, but that's only because I listened to them first.
I started growing pots.
I knit macrame hangers for them.
I make hummus.
I signed up for a writing workshop.
I shout at the news.
All sorts of things from my teenage years are coming back into fashion: rock bands (or at least wearing their shirts), lip liner, low-rise jeans that cause eating disorders.
Give it a few more years, and my girl will complain why I didn't keep the Discman and that all the cool kids are playing original Snake on the Nokia 5110. Well, that's it.
The nice thing about being 43 is that you don't care that much.
A list of things I want for my birthday:
1. Cake.
2. More pants with elastic, only in a larger size.
3. World peace.
I will only settle for the first two.
were we wrong
We will fix it!
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