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I’m not gonna lie to you.
Forty, sucks.
Like really sucks.
Sucks bigger than anything has ever sucked in my entire life.
Sure, some people take their ‘over the hill/midlife crisis’ and come out the other side a brand new ‘leveled up’ version of themselves—but that sure as hell didn’t happen to me.
Nope.
I turned forty . . . and died.
Yes, obviously, I’m still talking and walking. But make no mistake—this bitch is dead.
See, I’m a brand new vampire (not by choice). Oh, and did I mention I’m the daughter of the most well known voodoo queen this side of the equator?
And now, instead of getting ready to Botox my emerging crow’s feet, I’m stuck in the middle of a magical pissing contest between the vampires who run downtown Chicago, and the voodoo queens who want to end them.
Yup. There’s no other way to say it…
Forty definitely sucks.