I think I might be getting old. Every morning when I wake up, I feel like I’m 100 years old and could just stay in bed and sleep for the rest of the year. Alas, there are responsibilities that pull me from such a pleasant existence.
Every morning I unstrap my right foot from a fabulously sexy night boot and hobble to the bathroom. I’m crippled with Plantar Fasciitis that hurts like a mother “you-know-what” and to add insult to injury the mirror never reflects the person I think it will….
I’d love to be one of those women who blogs about how fabulous the “real me” is and write about how every wrinkle and extra pound I have is proof that I’ve spent time with my children, friends and family, but the reality is that I’m a vain and gracelessly aging woman. My wrinkles and extra pounds are not proof of what a fabulous mother I am or the experiences I’ve had. They are proof that I’m tired, that I don’t drink enough water, and that it has been more than 6 months since my dermatologist has “loved” me with the Botox yum you’d never know happened.
I am 40.
My brain can still wake up at 6am and run 8 miles, kick ass through a stadium workout and then go volunteer in the classroom with a big fat supermom smile on my face. The reality is that my body wakes up, wants coffee, drops the kids at school, and sits down to knock out some work before running to the gym to burn the calories it ate, and then skids into the classroom to volunteer, before running carpool all over Los Angeles. It cooks dinner, does the laundry, helps with homework, and…. and still, I feel pretty darn happy.
Old and tired, but happy. Does the “old” part go away?
I am NOT aging gracefully….