The Things Women 45 + Do but Pretend We Don’t

1. We Pluck Rogue Hairs Like Assassins in the Night

There is always one.
The chin hair.
The neck hair.
The “hello, I’m a porcupine spike” hair.

We don’t tweeze it gently.
We attack it as if it insulted our ancestors.

And yes — the best lighting for this?
The car’s visor mirror.
Not God, not therapy, not the bathroom light —
The Honda Civic at 3:17 pm.

2. We No Longer Fake the

“Honey, where is my..?” Smile

In our twenties:
“Of course, baby! I’ll help you!”

In our thirties:
“It’s in the drawer.”

In our forties and fifties:
“Find it by yourself.” We tell him with our eyes, not with our mouths.

We don’t say it sweetly.
We say it like we’re filing for emotional emancipation.

3. Our Bathroom Drawer Is a Graveyard of Beauty Products That Lied to Us

Serums that promised "miracles."
Creams that swore they’d “lift.”
A jade roller we bought during a spiritual crisis.

Do we discard any of them?
No.
Because what if they work one day?
Delusion is hydration.

4. We Walk Into a Room and Forget Why

Then Blame the Room

We don’t say “I forgot.”
We say:

“This room has bad energy.”
“This room distracted me.”
“This room is rude.”

We walk out. We remember, and we walk back in. Then, we forget again because this room is still disrespectful.

5. We Hide Snacks From Our Families Like We’re Running an Underground Operation

Do we share?
No.
We survive.

We hide chocolate behind the flour.
We hide chips in the laundry room.
We stash treats in tampon boxes because no man has ever opened one voluntarily.

We are not ashamed.
We are strategic.

6. We Have Zero Patience for Stupid Conversations

Someone starts talking nonsense?
Our face immediately transforms into:

“My soul just left my body.”
“I will not tolerate this energy.”
“I am two seconds from committing emotional violence.”

The older we get, the faster our spirit tries to escape.

7. We Secretly Keep Track of How Many Times Our Partners Breathe Loudly

We don’t want to be irritated.
We become irritated.

One loud exhale:
Forgivable.

Second loud exhale:
Intentional attack.

Third loud exhale:
We are now googling cabins in the mountains.

8. We Have a Complicated Relationship With Reading Glasses

We put them on.
Take them off.
Put them on top of our heads.
Lose them.
Find them in the fridge.
Swear we didn’t put them there.

Then we blame gravity, aging, Amazon, perimenopause, and possibly Mercury.

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9. We Don’t Bend Down Without Asking Ourselves If It’s Worth It

Something drops on the floor.
We pause.
We evaluate.
We negotiate.

Is the object emotionally important?
Is there a tool nearby so I can grab it without bending like a folding chair?
Is anyone else home to summon?

Sometimes the answer is:
“It lives on the floor now.”

10. We Keep a Collection of “House Clothes” That Could End a Marriage if Seen Too Early

Not pajamas.
Not loungewear.
But the uniform of a woman who is DONE for the day.

Shirt from 1998.
Pants are missing their will to live.
Bra nowhere in sight.

If a man sees this outfit too early in dating,
He will think we are unstable.
He would be correct.

11. We No Longer Pretend to Like Everyone

In our twenties:
“I want people to like me.”

In our forties and fifties:
“I want peace. And silence. And fewer humans.”

We’re done faking friendships—life’s too short and so are our nerves.
We no longer tolerate energy vampires.
We no longer smile through nonsense.

We keep our circles small and our standards sky-high.

12. We Have Opinions About Your Life Choices… and They’re Not Hallmark-Approved

By 45+, we’ve earned a black belt in holding our tongue while someone else’s adult child makes yet another spectacularly questionable decision.
We watch the mess.
We sip our coffee.
We breathe… deeply.

Because if we say what we’re actually thinking?

Oh, honey — it won’t sound like a Hallmark script.
It’ll sound like a truth grenade wrapped in love and delivered with a side-eye.

So we keep it tucked under our sleeve…
for now.
Ready to deploy when the time is right —
and when they can handle the emotional consequences.

14. We Skip Numbers Because…

Well, We Just Do

If you noticed it, we jumped straight to number 14 — congratulations.
You’re one of us.

Women in their forties and fifties don’t follow number rules. We bend them, skip them, and occasionally delete them.
We’ve lived too much life, survived too many surprises, and reorganized too many junk drawers to be bossed around by a digit.

Thirteen?
We don’t hate it…
We just don’t trust it.

It’s got weird energy.
It reminds us of hotel elevators that conveniently “forget” it,
birthdays we’d rather not repeat,
and that era between 39 and “mind your business.”

At this age, we edit numbers the same way we edit people:
If the vibe is off, we skip it and keep moving.

Besides, we’ve earned the right to reorganize the universe like it’s our pantry.
If we say the next number is 14, darling…
It’s 14.

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15. We Perform the “Did I Already Do That?” Dance at Least Three Times a Day

Did I lock the door?
Did I turn off the stove?
Did I blow out the candle?
Did I actually reply to that message, or did I just mentally compose it?

And the car… oh, the car.

We lock it.
We walk away.
Then suddenly we’re not sure.

So we turn around.
We stare at it with suspicion.
We click the button again.
Then once more.
Then we stand there thinking,

“Did I lock it before, or did I imagine locking it?”

So we lock it again, just in case.
And then again, because the last time didn’t feel official.
And then we walk away slowly,
doubting our entire existence.

By this age, hitting the remote 20 times to lock the car feels just right.

16. We Negotiate With Our Clothes Like They’re Unionized

Every morning, we open the closet like we’re entering a hostage negotiation.

Skinny jeans?
Maybe someday.
Not today.
Not after last night’s dinner.
Not with this mood.
Not with this weather.
Not with these hormones.
Not with this planet’s current gravitational pull.

Shapewear?
Only if someone’s funeral requires it.
Or a family photo.
Or if we’ve lost our will to live for the next eight hours.

Bras with underwire?
Absolutely not.
That’s a young woman’s sport.

By our forties and fifties, clothes don’t “fit” —they cooperate if they feel like it.

So we pick an outfit based on:
how puffy we feel, and if we’re mentally prepared to tolerate fabric touching our bodies.

It’s not fashion.
It’s a strategy.
Honestly, we deserve a medal.

17. The Photo Evaluation Olympics

The sport for women 45+

Taking a photo at our age is no longer a simple “click.”
It’s a full-scale operation, complete with eyewear logistics, emotional damage, and spiritual negotiations.

We take the picture.
Then we pause.
We reach for our glasses — where are they? On our heads? In the purse? In the bra? Who knows.

We put them on.
We zoom in.
We inspect like forensic analysts reviewing crime-scene footage.

And instantly — instantly — we hate it.

“That’s not me.”
“That’s not the face I remember.”
“Who is this tired woman impersonating me?”

So we take another.
And another.
And another.

We go through more angles than a geometry textbook.
Chin down, chin up, sideways, sunlight, shade — nope. Still not her.

Then it hits us:
TikTok filters.
The holy grail of digital resurrection.

We open the app.
We choose the pretty one — not too fake, just spiritually rejuvenating.

We take the photo again.

And zuás!
There she is.
The face we swear we still have.
The skin we last saw in 2003.
The hair that obeyed the laws of physics.

Finally — finally — we recognize the woman in the picture.

Because she looks like the woman still living inside our hearts.

PS: Don’t Ghost Me — I’m Too Old for That Game

If you snorted, nodded, or whispered “oh hell yes” at any point…

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Grab a spot in the Wellness Vault.
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Come back often — I thrive on validation, caffeine,
and people who understand the struggle of taking 47 selfies
to get one acceptable photo.

Welcome to the tribe, darling.
We’re aging… but we’re doing it loudly.