So, I'm officially 40. Woo hoo! Or rather, big whoop! Lightning didn't strike, I wasn't overcome with some life altering epiphany, the earth didn't shift. I even got a zit. I did, however, have a fairly nice and easy to achieve orgasm last night, but otherwise, nothing much was special.
The only way in which I feel different pertains 100% within me. I keep expecting to have accomplished "X" or done "Y" by the time I hit 40, but have to come to the realization that in fact, I haven't.
Earlier in the year, I set some goals that I fully intended to reach by my 40th birthday. I wanted to weigh a certain amount on my birthday. My goal was to fit into particular clothes which have now hung forlornly in my closet for months. Guess what? Not only could I not fit into them, it didn't even cross my mind to weigh in on the big (full pun intended) day. I envisioned myself in white and while I did wear a white blouse, that was the extent of it. Besides, I find the notion of white to be so paradoxical with who I actually am and believe myself to be. It's a farce, for sure.
I also had dreams of having a specific amount of a first draft memoir written. Guess what? Didn't get anywhere near that either. The more I tried to work on it and write, the further I felt from the moment and the passion of it all. The subject of my endeavors won't go away, so trust me, you'll hear all about it in due time. For now, though, it's left untouched. My heart needs a bit more time to heal.
And yet, amazingly, I didn't hate on myself for not having those things done. Today, I found myself giving 40 year old me a bit of a break for once. I was much easier on my side profile in the reflection of the glass as I peered over as I walked by. In my black shirt dress and awesome boots, I felt a bit sassy, despite my lack of flat stomach or the presence of the white t-shirt strategically worn underneath because I can't button the top three buttons of the little dress anymore.
Today, I pinched off half a Snickerdoodle during the doldrums of my afternoon meeting and actually enjoyed how it tasted. I left the guilt and remorse for allowing myself to indulge in such frivolities behind.
I'd like to say that my 40's are going to be more about loving myself and far less about hating on all the things I do during the day that seem weak and pitiful. And yet, despite my progress, I sit here tonight in my gray sweats, bra-less under my gimme t-shirt, and feel my saggy tits hanging on the fat rolls of my stomach. It's quite hard to love the 40 year old me knowing I could be and do so much more.
But, it's 8:26 p.m. Not much time to accomplish anything tonight. I take a deep breath and release.
Would I do anything over differently today? Possibly. But nothing of such huge significance that I won't be able to find sleep tonight.
Tomorrow is another day and I will try to do better then.
Plus, I've got far more weighty issues to tackle...
Stay tuned.
K
In 2010, I turned 40 and spent a great part of that year figuring out some serious stuff in my life. Newly 42, I'm still on the path of discovery but feel I've come quite far. This tiny space is my save haven, one of the only places I can come to work through my worries, fears, exaltations, and endeavors. Thank you to those who've helped me along the way and those of you who stop by to read my crazy thoughts. Enjoy!
Hmmm...first step...believe you're beautiful. Truly, what's inside counts a fuckton more than what's outside. And, strangely enough, when you believe you're beautiful, your insides tend to seep through your pores.
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