Turning 55 shouldn't be so difficult, right? I mean, you made it past 50, what're five years?
Yeah, right, don't let that little lie inside of your head tell you five years isn't anything. Five years ago I was in the best shape of my life, ever. I worked out, I had the shape, I had the curves, I had all the right things in all the right places, oh, but wait...somewhere I got lost a long the way with facial hair and ugly feet. A nose that won't stop growing in proportion to my face and adult skin problems that come from "the change". Hot flashes that make hot humid days in Florida feel like a fresh breeze and praying for snow for the winter. Mood swings that swing more than a political debate on the news. Some days I want to stuff my face with nothing but chocolate and sweet stuff...like the really super sweet stuff! People, we're talking about chocolate covered donuts here, or pastries, lots of them! Other days I don't care for anything more than a slice of bread and cheese, with a little mustard on it. Today, my words may be inspiring and loving, and tomorrow, demon Janet comes out and whoa!! Where did that word come from? One more wrinkle, one more crease, can't get the makeup to make me look like the model in the photo I used as a guide. My hair, dear God, my hair. I blame my father for the thick hair curse. The gray, the Clairol. It's all incidental. Life happens, change happens, we grow old. Embrace the hell out of it. There is no grace to growing older. It's a mess...one hot confused mess. But it's OKAY!
I'm just thankful I'm having another birthday. And birthdays, they don't really mean all that much to me anymore anyway. I share my birthday with my oldest daughter, so for years, it was more about her birthday than mine. Usually, my birthday was interrupted by making sure I had enough drinking water and supplies while buckling down for the latest annual hurricane threatening the Gulf Coast.
My mother, God love her, thinks of me on my birthday. Because she did give birth to me, I would be greatly disappointed and suffer from serious depression if even my own mother forgot me on my birthday.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!