372 Days - The Time Post

If you’re a mother like I am then you know about “age-by-weeks” because there was a time when your baby’s age was determined that way and no one thought twice about it for the first year.

“Awww… she’s so big! How old is she?”

“Oh, she’s just past 32 weeks, thanks!”

“WOW! She’s so chubby!!”

“WOW! So are you!”

(silence)

(more silence)

“Hey look, free Doritos!” (sound of footsteps running away/stroller wheels screeching/Starbucks cup being thrown)

So today, I’m bringing it back to basics. Today I’m 2,027 weeks old. For those without a calculator handy, that’s 38 years and 51 weeks. For those without a brain handy, that’s one week until my 39^th birthday and the last year in my thirties. So what does this all mean, you ask? Oh, my dear friends, who am I kidding? You wouldn’t dream of asking for fear of getting an answer! How does the ‘Gen Y’ saying go? FML?? Anyway, here’s the scoop/the dilly/the deal/the answer (I tried to cover all generations there, see?): It all means, in a nutshell, or, rather, a tampon applicator (just to keep the “lady-theme” going here) that my time is running out. Not my “time” time, mind you. I hopefully have plenty of that left, but my, you know… tiiiiiiimmmme. Like, my “Tuh-ime.” Or, my “t-t-t-t-t-time.” Time for goodies and fun spots and wowsers and eeks. “Table-top” time. “Cooking naked and feeling comfortable about it and don’t let the new burn get you down” time. “Victoria’s Secret half-off-panties-buy-three-get-laid-free shopping-spree” time. SEXY TIME, DAMMIT! It’s fourth down, gang! And I’m at the 39 and 2 (age plus amount of kids) but the thing is, my quarterback is 6^th string! It ain’t lookin’ good, people! My time is running out faster than Mitt Romney at a PETA convention. Or Rick Santorum in a sweater-vest-less Wal-mart location. Or Newt Gingrich at a … okay I’ll stop. Point made, I’m sure. It’s crunch time, is what I’m saying. And my goal for the next year other than writing this blog in my free time (sarcasm plus irony = blogger goodness at its best) is to not just feel sexy again, but to genuinely BE sexy again.  

If Sofia Vergara can do it at 39; if Diane Lane can do it at 47; if Julianne Moore can do it at FIFTY-PHUCKING-TWO, then G*d damn, I’m going to do it, bitches. This 2,027 week old woman is going to DO IT. Come with me! Let’s do this!

Time. It’s all about time, kids.

My time, is now.

Time, by Pink Floyd