Saggy tummy & grey hairs, kiss my a**!

This post is brought to you thanks to Francesca, my neighbour.

Every year on my birthday I write some blog post boo hooing about getting older.  Last year I was so blown away by the fact that I was 40 I couldn’t even think of anything to say.  The year before 39 threw me for a loop, hell even 38 was just gearing up for the big 40.  Now that momentus year is over just as quickly as the birthdays before it.  Time marches on. Or it doesn’t and your dead.  Pretty bleak way to look at it but it’s true.  I don’t mind getting older cause the alternative sucks ass.  So screw you grey hair which thankfully there are only three (well 3 on my head) and saggy tummy (boobs are great thank you Dr. Moysa).  I don’t give a rats ass about you.  You don’t define me! You are the battle scars of a life lived to the fullest.  I have a pretty good outlook on the passage of time.  I think it’s because of the people that surround me and live in my heart (now of course I mean figuratively because there is an ocean between us).  I have friends that I’ve known for 37 years this year.   Yep,  I still talk to friends that i met in September 1974.  Kindergarten class, Mrs. Zapshella.  She rocked.  I have one friend who remembers every damn thing I did since that day and another who has (thankfully) forgotten most of it.  I have friends that I met in my early teens, one in particular who is much too sweet to be friends with me but continues against her husbands better judgment (to be fair he’s known me since 1985 so his judgment is pretty spot on).  I have friends from high school who partied hard through the years where I had my  red haired men phase and would only date guys with red hair.  And when I say date I mean me being madly in love and them not knowing I exist.  I have friends who I met in my 20’s and saw me through my divorce and rebirth as a bit of a party girl.  I even have new friends who I met in the last few years who I hold dear to my heart and close to my yoga mat.  So all in all I’ve got the friend thing covered.  And then there is family.  I have siblings who all though desperately older than me are still some of the coolest people I know.  And I have nieces and nephews who related through blood (and not) are the some of the nicest, most loyal sweet individuals who I am honored to be related to.  These “kids” continually amaze me, with their compassion, intelligence and their ability to grow up into proper adults.  They are TNG and they have surpassed the original crew of the Enterprise with their wit, good looks and charm,  just as it should be.  I have my children, who keep me sane and my spouse who drives me crazy and vise versa.  I have the life I imagined and the last thing that I should be concerned about is what age my birth certificate says that I am.

This lesson has been slow in coming and it’s not there every day.    I was reminded  today that it doesn’t matter how old you are it’s how you feel about yourself.    I’d like to thank my 70+  German neighbour Francesca in her teenie weenie black bikini for illustrating this point perfectly….age is just a number.