You know that meme circulating on social media about women still being able to be hot at 50? Well, I’m here to declare an intervention. Listen up — I’m tired. Like, really tired. My body feels like it’s been through a blender, and the idea of working out three hours a day while juggling life, chores, business, car maintenance, skin care regimes, and attempting to eat a salad occasionally? No, thank you.
Why am I putting myself through this chaos? So I can have my heart broken yet again? So that I can keep up with the fake housewives of “I married for money so I can be better than everyone else”? Hard pass. As you approach the glorious age of 50, all you really want is to be left alone to do your thing. So, I’ve decided to embrace it. If that means turning into a swamp witch ahead of schedule, society’s arbitrary timeline be damned.
I’m diving headfirst into the swamp, waving goodbye to society’s “Women can be sexy at 50” nonsense. It’s too much pressure. Let the swamp witch revolution begin! Time for the witchlings to have their moment in the limelight, I’m retiring. I’m wholeheartedly accepting my transformation into the swamp witch Mother Nature has clearly been hinting at.
Botox? Nah. Hairdresser? Maybe once a year. Nails? Pfffft. I’ll pluck now and then and, if I’m feeling fancy, I might even shave. Enough is enough. Bring on the cauldron and cackling — I’m swapping my anti-ageing cream for magical potions, my car for a broom, and my cell phone for a cat.
I crochet because it soothes my anxiety-riddled ADHD brain, and I have a rocking chair because, well, it rocks! Multifocal glasses? Sure, ageing is a natural process. And if I swear or say something offensive, it’s because I’m done censoring myself and I’m trying to free up some memory for better things. This is me — breaking free from the exhausting package I’ve been trapped in. I’m ready to dive headfirst into the swamp with open arms and a wicked laugh.