Soon a girl’s menstruation party will include gift certificates for Botox along with her first tampons. You’re never too young to fear aging.
Age is climbing up on me like kudzu, and I feel like I need a plan for what to do with it.
If Einstein needed Botox to get a job, the Allies might have lost WW2, My Favorite Martian wouldn’t have been in prime time, and Dick Tracy would have been talking into his necktie instead of his wristwatch.
Fairies broke into my bedroom while I was sleeping and inflated my waistline. That’s the only explanation I can think of for the thickening around my middle.