Count down to start in 3…2…1 – GO!

19 Dec

Here we go; final stretch to the forties has officially started.

Yes siree, in approximately 24 hours (I was born in the AM) the numerous “old”, “saggy”, “over-the-hills” jokes will start and I will officially jump to my new “decade” (shit, did I just typed DECADE?). Maybe I should label this as the “turning point in my life”, since I am officially entering the “prime of my life,” which many say falls between the ages of forty and seventy.  And that internet, makes me a mere babe in the grand scheme of things!

On a previous post (16 days ago) I mention that I’m not freaking out about the whole birthday thing  (but I still have 24 hours to do so. There yet may be hope for that meltdown). Looking back on this past year (or years) I had many challenges, and in most cases I set goals I needed to accomplish in order to move on to the next phase of my life.  And in the last days of so, as I sat and remember my 20’s (a blur to be honest with you) and my 30’s (very, very painful period) I realized that has not happen with my upcoming forties and it leaves me a bit … uncertain.

Now what?

If I were able to make a wish and to not be the introspective freak that I am, I’d wish to remain on this path I’ve made for myself.   Which all in all, its not as bad as I sometimes think it is.

I meet the man of my dreams.  And marriage; children and all that it will bring are my next tangible goals.  And folks sometimes scares the pants off me more!

I built a beautiful circle of friends, who look out for me, love me, respect me and most of all put up with many of my crazy (and there is a lot of that).  HI GUYS!

I’d really like to have the privilege of watching my mother grow older gracefully for many more years to come. And to continue to have the opportunity to nurture a healthier relationship with my sister, because no matter how storming and whack it is at times, she is my baby sister and I would not trade her for anyone else in my life.

By this point in life, I know myself pretty well.  I’ve come to accept that if I wasn’t a size eight at twenty, I can’t expect to be a size eight now.  I have made peace with my boobs.  If they want to rest somewhere around the level of my navel, so be it.  I’m too old (see even I’m starting to do it!) to obsess about them anymore.  Besides, that’s what push-up bras (and plastic surgeons) are for. And the white gray hairs on my head have been conveniently hidden with highlights and lowlights by my stylist.

I know what I can let go of and what I need to work out so that I don’t feel anxious and lost. And believe me the past couple of years I have felt adrift. But, as I look around me, with both feet firmly planted on the ground, I see not a blur of uncertainly, but a period rich with possibilities.

In my forties, I’ll be moving forward, not only as someone’s wife or mother, sister or daughter or friend, but as the woman I’ve become somewhere along the way. In this decade, I intend to slow down and think and appreciate and learn.  And even if I have no great new accomplishment to show for the next ten years, I know the process will be a hell of a ride!

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