It didn't help that this is what I've heard for the past week:
Now, don't get me wrong, the fact that McLovin is doing this is super sweet and very cool and I get to see everyone all at the same time, and drink my favorite drink all afternoon and evening. And then he's taking me to see a super chick-y movie afterward. Which he doesn't know about yet but is sooooo going to happen.
And now I know why...
For the past few days, he's come home with status reports. "The Coupons are coming...and so is The Whooziwhatits and the Thingamajigs..." and I kept thinking how awesome that was, especially when it's just a little birthday and it's not like it's a pivotal one or anything. And then I had coffee with my friend Dorothy, who we introduced a long time ago, and who I love because she, unlike me and every other person on -- ummm, earth -- is Surrender Immune.
Dorothy: So, we loved the evite McLovin sent...
Me: Oh, I never saw it. What did it say?
Dorothy: [laughs] Oh, that explains it then.
Dorothy: It totally looks like you're turning 40. [Editor's Note: Which. I'm. Not. -Kate]
Dorothy: Yeah, it says "Kate and her shoes are turning thirty-blank" and then has a question mark at the end. So, unless I knew better, I'd assume you're turning forty.
Me: [mouth hanging open] Oh, you gotta be kidding me. So, when I get all, "no, I"m not 40 yet..." people are gonna be like "sure thing, Fancy - whatever you say..." aren't they?
When I asked McLovin about it, he laughed. Evil-y. And the thing is, I'm fine about turning forty. When. I. Actually. Do. Which is not this year.
So, I just want to say thank you in advance for all the crap I'm about to get about my age, and my fake age and all the adult diapers and pills that help you poo and ginseng and support bras and all that stuff that's about to flood my house. I'll be re-wrapping it and giving it to McLovin for his birthday next February.
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