I am fat.
I have grey hair that won't take dye.
My skin is all blotchy and sun-damaged.
Sometimes I am a great mother. Sometimes I fall far short.
I like to write things that make people laugh. Apparently, I manage to achieve this on occasion.
I hate broccoli.
I like to quilt.
And I am a BIG, FAT, GREY, BLOTCHY, CHILD-REARIN', HUMOR-WRITIN', BROCCOLI-HATIN', QUILTIN' FORTY-YEAR-OLD TODAY!
To make this day even more special, I will be interviewing a local plastic surgeon as a last-minute assignment for the magazine. Because nothing says "Happy Birthday, you old bag" quite like listening to a woman who is Botoxed to the point of Cadaver on the Joan Rivers scale of facial immobility talk for 2 hours about how she always knew she was meant to be "a healer."