Friday, January 29, 2010

Day 117

Sooooooo … I’m not actually 40. Well I am, but my Real Age is actually only 38 (go to Isn’t that awesome! But how come my chin hair and greying skunk line don’t know that? And why is my neck craggy and my crows feet all deep and spidery? Why don’t they know I’m only 38? And if I’m not actually 40 yet, then why am I doing all this ridiculous kick arse boot camp to keep me looking as though I am in my 30s? Why? WHY?

You know what, I am more productive, have more vision, am healthier, fitter and more at peace at 40 than I ever was at 38. 40 is actually heaps more fun! When you are 40 you actually step up and start living a bit more. AND you are at the beginning of decade rather than at the arse end. So I am happily sitting on top of the 40 mountain looking out at the view and the yonder horizon to see what wonderful things await me. 39 was actually the biggest wake up call of all, because at 39 I suddenly realised I hadn’t done half of what I had planned to do before turning 40 so it was a big year of goal setting and making measurable progress as the neon flashing 40 sign appeared at speed on my journey of life. Now that I am there I am slowing down a little and enjoying the view while still signing up for trapeze lessons, doing cartwheels on a dance floor, getting in touch with my spinal column and NOT making jam. I hadn’t done any of that at 38. So while my real age is 38 I am loving that my chronological age is 40. Yep. Lovin’ it. Yes, I am. No really … I am. Honestly. Truly! Absolutely …. Yepppp …. Gotta love 40 ….

That said I am off for a 40 year old Deep Fried Fruit medical procedure today. One of those ridiculous little things to do with fixing heavy painful periods and putting an end to mass monthly iron loss and chucking in a bit of contraception to boot so I don’t become a 40 year old mum. (I already have two fabulous kids and a grown up step daughter – I have done my time … no need for more). It’s always very intriguing when someone references a medical procedure don’t you think? “Ohhhh, Arrrm haaaving a mmmmmedical proceduuuuurrre” (that’s supposed to be said in a posh North Shore accent). It sounds very mystical and captivating and somewhat posh because it is often elective and reeks of “fine tuning”. But alas, no. It is not very glamorous I’m afraid. I am just off to have a do-dad put into my which-what to kind of help with my hoo-hoo and all that a hoo-hoo has to offer. Not very glamorous at all. I AM going under a general anaesthetic though which should make for a pretty decent sleep. Wish me luck!

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