This week I celebrated a BIG birthday. It came. It went. I’m forty.
No big whoop.
I wish I could tell you that I put on those skinny jeans and painted the town red.
You see, things don’t always turn out like you plan. And unfortunately my dreams of zipping up those jeans and posting some pictures of my rockin’ 40-year-old denim covered fanny here on this blog just didn’t come true.
Who cares, though. Right? I’m healthier at 40 than I was at 25. I weigh 50 pounds less today than I did fifteen years ago. I have more energy, eat healthier, make better choices and most importantly, I wake up every morning feeling happy about who I am.
I. LIKE. ME.
Would losing another 5-10 pounds make me a better person or make my life more complete? Would it magically solve all my problems? Would it suddenly turn me into a “naturally thin person” who will never have to worry about her weight ever again? Nope, Nope, and Nope.
But – Can I tell you a secret? I still REALLY want to get back into those mother flipping jeans again though.
And -- I will be 40 for an entire year, right? So there’s time. There’s still plenty of time…