I’m turning forty and I have a disease.

I am turning forty in two weeks and simply cannot let the topic of my impending aging go by without a little bitching.

I’ve got mixed emotions about it. Age is just a number, right? That’s the popular saying by people who are getting older and want to make themselves feel better. It’s not how you look, it’s how you feel. Please. I just rolled my eyes so hard, they fell back into my brain.

So, here’s the story. About six years ago, I started to notice my hair thinning. I’m pretty vain, so this was horribly shocking to me and my ego. I immediately went to a dermatologist who told me this was hereditary and not much I could do about it. Men’s Rogaine was to be used, twice a day, forever. I started using that, along with taking high doses of Biotin and other vitamins.

The years have gone by, and I’ve seen tiny bits of improvement, but needless to say, Rogaine has not given me Sofia Vegara’s thick, luscious hair (or her body, surprisingly.)

Fast forward to last year. I was training for triathlons. I was working out like a mad woman. Bike, swim, run, repeat. Everyday, I was burning thousands of calories. I was killing it.

I gained fifteen pounds.

And before you say, it must have been all muscle, it wasn’t. I couldn’t fit into my pants anymore, and I had a gut.

I’ve worked out since I was sixteen years old and have always been thin.

I managed to get the weight off the old-fashioned way, cocaine and cigarettes (just kidding, calm down) and am back to my birth weight (again, kidding.)

Here’s where my new disease comes in. A few weeks ago, I was bitten by a brown recluse spider (we think) and holy shit, it was gross. I would post the pictures, but I want to keep my friends, so they will remain in the vault for now.

Anyway, I had to go to the ER, and since the nasty bug had bitten me on my head, the Doctor asked me about my hair loss and told me I needed to go see a dermatologist again. On a side note, I thought the male nurse was literally going to take a picture of my head and post it to his Facebook. He tried to hide his enthusiasm for my oozing noggin, but I could tell this was the best shit he had seen all night.

I digress.

So, fast forward to this past week. I went to a new, awesome female dermatologist who did a full blood work up. She called me with the results on Wednesday. And the new disease is…drum roll, please…

Hypothyroidism. Yep, me and Oprah, we’re in this together.

Now, my mother is telling me it’s no big deal and maybe I’m just being overly dramatic as usual. But, here it is. I’m officially getting older and will be acquiring diseases. Ok, maybe it’s more of a condition. Whatever.

Either way, it explains a lot. The sudden weight gain, the hair loss, the lethargy that I thought was just plain lazy-assness. And the great news is that I get to be on meds now forever. Along with the Rogaine, and another pill she gave me for hair loss.

I’m going to have to buy one of those Day of the Week pill dispensers now.

I’d also like to mention that I can no longer run, because my knees are shot, my eyesight is getting worse, and my memory is that of a sieve.

On a positive note (I’m trying here, I really am) I think once this new “disease” is under control, it’s going to make forty a great year. Hopefully, I will grow some Rapunzel-like luscious locks of hair, will get more energy and it will keep me from gaining that weight back.

So, forty it is. I can’t stop it from happening. I’m halfway to my grave now, so all this new perspective is going to start happening and my mid-life crisis will appear. Oh, and Mr. Menopause is just around the corner, waiting to suck the rest of my life from me. Oops, I lost that positive groove, didn’t I?

In any case, I have my arsenal of drugs and potions and thank god for Botox. I am jumping in with both feet, and although I am not willing, I am ready.