Carly, my best and oldest friend, was staring at the gym’s mirrored wall, fixated on two women of a certain age who looked smoking hot, even while breaking a serious sweat.

The women were me and her, of course. And our age? Well, that seemed to be on Carly’s mind a lot lately. Mine, too, I have to confess.

“What the hell’s wrong with us?” she asked.

It was hard to see fault in our reflections as we both worked our different toning machines. The two of us were in damned good shape, our bodies tight and firm. Carly had an ass you could bounce a quarter off of, and I was more fit than I’d been in college.

“There’s nothing wrong with us, Carly,” I assured her.

“Then why does every guy I flirt with give me a blank stare? Or say... Read More