Strictly speaking, I’m passed “midlife,” but, hey, I’m still always up for a “crisis.”
Turning 50 is bothering me a lot more than turning 30 or 40 did, probably because of the whole menopause thing.
When I was doubled over with cramps at 14, I couldn’t have pictured myself decades in the future, crying in the drugstore, overcome with bittersweet tristesse at the sight of — I kid you not — towering rows of Super Ultra Deluxe Maxi Pads (Unscented).
