Don't worry...I've checked the math and technically I am old enough to be the mother of the bride. Although my body tells me a different story when I get up in the morning, my head is still saying I am 25.
I have played the game with myself. Telling grand stories in the middle of the night in my head that the 40's are the new 30's...a statement I have never heard come out of any thirty year old's mouth.
I have applied every cream to my face and am now pleading to God for a tropical illness so I can lose the few extra pounds. As I sit here, I wonder where this is all coming. Then I figured it out....
IT'S THE DAMN MOTHER OF THE BRIDE DRESS!!!!
Oh my...it's the dress I saw my grandmother wear in our family pictures. Not the same dress but the same KIND of dress....you know...satin to the floor with the sparkly gemstones. And the jacket comes standard with every gown....it's to cover the arms that continue waving ten minutes after the last guest leaves. How did I get to this point? Easy...my daughter grew up and fell in love. Shouldn't she have tapped me at the shoulder somewhere around 18 and told me to get it together?