In my 20s: I’m gonna live forever! In my 40s: uh oh!

I get it, sauce, I also thicken over time.

At the age where a big break could mean either my career or a hip.

Aging is the worst. I miss the good ol’ days when my pain was strictly emotional.

One minute you’re young and fun and the next, you need a tow out of a beanbag chair.

When you turn 50, they change the lightbulb in your fridge to that memory eraser from Men in Black.

30s: Oh look, a dance floor! 50s: Oh look, a couch!

Getting older means talking to less people and complaining about more people.

You’d think the heat and humidity would steam some of the wrinkles out of my body.

No one told me middle age would be so fuzzy, and if you are wondering whether I mean my eyesight or my facial hair, yes.

Welcome to your 50s. You used to be a lot taller.

Welcome to your 40s: here’s ten pounds.

Welcome to your 40s: you’re not exhausted, that’s just your face now.

The older I get, the more I understand why deer run in front of cars.

Welcome to your 40’s. You now have to second guess your age as you can’t believe you’re that old.

Welcome to your 50s, your knees will now decide when you will sit down.

My body cracks like a glow stick every time I move, but refuses to light up.

The older I get, the less surprised I’d be if a random body part just fell off one day.

With age comes wisdom. And digestive trouble.

You are only young once. After that you have to think up some other excuse.