Are young women getting whinier about weight issues or is it just me? Enough already with your nauseating talk about diets; your excessive moaning and groaning about carbs; and your ranting/raving Instagram stories about thunder thighs. Blah. Blah. Blah. Please look the other way when my eyes roll and gloss over—just my cataracts going rogue and getting ripe.
The next time a skinny-Minnie complains about her body size, I’ll going to grab a jelly-filled doughnut from my purse and cram it into my pie hole. Chew with my mouth open. And stare at her.
My body and I are aging with attitude.
Until we chat again, this old bag declares, “Aging is for cheese and wine—not women.”
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