According to my email, I’m rich, stunning, and royal. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.
When I opened my email this morning, I was thrilled to see that I’ve won 600 thousand pounds in an email lottery. I don’t remember playing that lottery, but I’m happy I won nonetheless.
Claiming my prize is pretty straightforward. I just send them my name, my address, and a copy of my international passport. I know that’s a little bit unusual. But I’m not really too worried – the person who wrote me has a gen-u-ine Yahoo account and everything.
I feel certain that Yahoo is good for the 600 thousand pounds. Especially now that they have that new kick-ass Marissa Mayer is running the show there. She just had a baby less than a week ago and is just going to miss two weeks of work! There’s a LATvian for you.
I win stuff all the time. And, when I’m not winning, I’m being asked to compete.
When I was 35, I received a letter in the mail imploring me to register for the Miss Teen USA pageant. I was selected based on my academic prowess. And they didn’t say a word at all about the size of my birthing hips. I can deliver a baby like nobody’s business. (Well, it sounds like Marissa might be pretty good at it, too.)
Anyway, birthing babies was going to be my “special talent” for the show. But, sadly, I was busy that weekend.
I don’t remember why. It was probably my turn to drive the kids somewhere or else there was a huge sale at Target on toilet bowl cleaner or something like that.
Otherwise I would have been SOOOO in. I even had a pair of Size 10 glass slippers to wear. Plus, I’m the only woman I know who has my very own housekeeping tiara. (click to tweet) I used to wear it when I scrubbed toilets.
Which reminds me – some years ago I sat my boys down and explained to them that I could NEVER be called “grandma” or “granny” or “nanny.” Truly. That last one’s a goat.
I told them that, if and when they had children, I would like to be known to them as “Contessa,” or “Tessa” for short. It was a bit of an unusual request, so I had them practice. That was back in the day where I was going crazy being “mom’d” to death all day.
On those days, the boys would have to call me “Contessa” in order to get my attention. That was a fun experiment.
But now that they’re older and the asses I’m wiping daily are more metaphorical than literal, I don’t mind the “mom” moniker so much. It’s all rushing by and I’m so grateful I’ve learned to slow down and appreciate more of the moments as they stream by.
Of course those 600 THOUSAND pounds will help, too. That buys a lot of mediation tapes.
Don’t worry, I’m still gonna write for you even though I’m rich now and everything. You people “get” me and I “get” you. And there’s no money that can buy that.
We’re all winners here.
P.S. You too could be a Midlife Beauty Contestant winner. We’re all winners here. This is where you sign up for regular updates. And a retreat. It’s free and won’t hurt a bit. Right HERE.
photo: Flickr, robynlou8