August, Decreasing

Last year, on the day after my 40th birthday, I posted about my sweet family and what they did for me to usher in a whole new decade. It included a self portrait in the side mirror of my brand new (to me) Mustang convertible. I thought it only appropriate to revisit the side mirror self portrait on what my friend Cyndi calls my 1st Anniversary. (Could it be that life begins at 40? Hmmm)

See - now, I'm not one to obsess* about my age too much. I'm 41. It's awesome. I've never been healthier, happier or more content. And being 41 is so much better than the alternative. I'd always rather have another birthday, know what I mean? I was talking with my Dad on my birthday, and he wished me a Happy 29th, with a sly grin.

Okay - he was on the phone - but I could hear it in his voice.

Anyway - I quickly corrected him and said that I wasn't 29 - I was 41, by golly, and DANG proud of it. This unhealthy obsession with being young is a detriment to all of us. I went through way too much to get here to want to go back again, people. WAY too much. I wouldn't trade one wrinkle or saggy tricep wiggle for the amount of wisdom I've gained in the last 20 years.

Sure - I dye my hair pink on occasion, keep it blonde to hide the grays, and have an occasional piercing done, but that's not because I want to BE younger. It's because I HAVE EARNED IT, my friends.

With every gray hair.

With every misstep.

With every poor choice.

With every push up.

With every lap around the track.

With every triumph.

The secret to staying young forever isn't to never grow old. It's to get your nose pierced embrace those things that have brought us this far and to realize the lessons we've learned are the things that make us who we are today...and love that person.

*shut up.