Boy, I think turning 40 this year has REALLY turned me inside out. Tomorrow morning I am going to work out at 6 am and be back in time to get everyone out the door for school. If you knew me at all, you'd know that this goes against everything I stand for. Sleep, extra sleep, slow to wake up, coffee first--everything else second, I could go on and on. I am not the exercise girl. And before you think I have caught the bug and am becoming some endorphin, work out junkie-- let me be clear. I am not having fun. There is no bug to be caught. I still hate doing it. No rush afterwards, just the shakes. No huge weight loss to gloat about, I'm the same as when I started. (which by the way---SO annoying, I mean give me that at least!) But let's face the bitter reality that I live in. My 40th birthday is 3 months away. FORTY. (cue dark, creepy music) I am not taking it well. I don't want to be forty. But since I can't stop the calendar, I don't want to feel 40. I don't want to think about my brittle bones on the horizon, and along with basic aging, my Celiac's disease has seen to it that I already have osteopenia, so thanks for that. I can't keep the wrinkles away, the liver spots, the gravity doing God knows what to everything that used to be higher up... But I think that maybe if I don't FEEL 40, it may help. I know, I know, I am being a total baby about growing old. No news alert there. But hey, if it's getting me to exercise, to watch the bad things that I love so much, maybe there is a silver lining to my tantrum. I just wish everything from my waist up didn't hurt so much. My youngest are 38 pounds each. That is no fun to pick up over a baby gate when your biceps are mush.
So here is to not feeling old. As much as possible. And still being able to have your adult beverage on Fridays because you were a WW point Nazi during the week. Life is pretty good. :)