Forty is a lot harder on the body than I expected.

Cosign.

If it's any comfort, fifty hasn't been as bad a physical hit as forty. But, fuck, typing "fifty" and knowing it applies to me is still a massive kick in the psyche. I am not coping well with that one.

The panic is awful. I regret the years of smoking. I regret the years of being overweight. I fear it's too late to enjoy my face/body. And then I calm the fuck down. And then it starts again.

I wonder if my singledom makes it feel worse. I was chatting with a dude at work and the subject of age came up and I told him I'm 38. He said he wouldn't have guessed I was over 32. I said it's the purple hair. He said I have good skin. I think I probably do, rationally. It's hard to overcome the brainwashing.

Forty is a lot harder on the body than I expected.

Forty's okay for me so far, but I only have a few months under my belt.

Well, there was the months-long hip pain, but that seems to be gone. I think buying new running shoes went a long way towards fixing the conditions that caused the hip problem.

But I could live without the noises my knees make. It's like goddamn popcorn in there.

My grey is really starting to be noticeable. And I was looking at my nails today and I realized how old my hands look. My skin is still pretty good, I think because of the no makeup thing. The SO is down to his college weight and totally looks younger than me right now, although he doesn't think so. But he's going to have the forties and fifties good aging thing that guys do sometimes, and I'm...not.

I regret the years of being overweight.

You know, I don't regret it as much as I just think it would be easier to not be overweight, in terms of clothes shopping (thrift stores, for instance, are not a friend to the fatties) and such.

And then sometimes I think how I really do objectify the hell out of Tim (no 45-year-old non-actor should have a body like that) and feel guilty, like if I'm going to leer at his fine, fine ass, then maybe I owe it to him to be closer to a standard weight so that he can leer at a smaller ass. (*He* never EVER indicates any such feelings that perhaps my big butt should be smaller, to be clear. *I* am the one getting all quid pro quo about our asses.)

For ita (if I'm remembering correctly): Lake sharks!

Earlier this year I switched over to using oils (either olive or coconut mixed with some castor oil and a few drops of tea tree oil) as a makeup remover/facial cleanser, and my skin is totes healthier and less dry. Now I just need to force myself to shampoo less.

But I could live without the noises my knees make. It's like goddamn popcorn in there.

Yeah, the knees are not going to get better. All that soft tissue degrades. You lose your elasticity and bounce.

I was first introduced to this concept by my ophthalmologist when he was explaining how my vision would degrade to a certain point but then would stabilize because my eyes would be less elastic. Elastic eyeballs!

I really want some sort of medical intervention with injections and plumpers to make my face look less awful.

Retin-A. Much cheaper than injections and plumpers - those don't last anyway. I need to go back to my derm and get a new prescription for it. Until about a year ago I was using it about 3 times a week. Then I got lazy. I can tell the difference.