Being 35 means...

...I am no longer in the MTV demographic, but in the FiberOne demographic.

...in Poland, I'd be considered middle-aged.

...I am no longer within the acceptable age-bracket to be considered for an Elite Escort level job at any of Amsterdam's finer gentlemen's clubs.

...Kids who were born the year I graduated from high school are getting ready for prom.

...I can no longer blame my fat ass on "baby" fat.

...my metabolism is now officially at a dead-stop.

...according to American Funds, now's the time when I absolutely MUST begin to REALLY look at my retirement plan.

...I'm older than Samuel Adams beer, the Old Navy brand, and I could technically be the mother of every single member of the 2008 US Olympic Womens Gymnastics team.

GAH my EEEEEYES!

There is such a thing as growing old gracefully. See: Sophia Lauren, Barbara Eden, my little Gramma. And then there's the much longer list of women who are no where near the same stratosphere of graceful. See: Cher, Priscilla Presley, Joan Rivers.

And then there's Madonna.

In Madonna's world, she is sexy, chic and just so much eye candy for her legions of fans. At least, that's what she forces her employees to chant while they spray her down with the tears of virgin school-girls every morning, before sitting down to a breakfast of baby harp seal cutlets and poached American bald eagle eggs.

The reality is this:



GAH. Since when are white support hose sexy? She looks like a character from Silent Hill. Like a bleached piece of jerky left out in the cold too long.

There aren't enough virgin school-girls, harp seals OR American bald eagle eggs in the entire infinite universe to make this look even next door to good.