I turned four decades old today.
I don’t feel 40. Mostly.
I’m still the same person I was at twenty only I’m not interested in after-hours nightclubs and my knees pop every time I sit down.
But you know, same.
This is my forty, in all its brutal honesty:
- I wear wrist braces at night to keep my carpel tunnel at bay.
- I need compression socks and blood thinning medication.
- I wear contact lenses and slather on wrinkle creams.
- I consider Netflix and a glass of wine to be a fun Friday night.
But here’s the thing. This is also my forty:
- I know how to love freely, unabashedly, and without strings.
- I can complete a strict pull-up and deadlift more than my bodyweight.
- I can raise my children with the empathy and wisdom born from experience.
- I know how to spot a toxic friend and cut them out of my life.
- I can cook without a recipe… and it still tastes good.
I am not the same person who ran barefoot around her college campus in the 90s. But I like to think I’m just an upgraded model.
A few more lines and a couple creaky joints, but an overall improvement.
You can do amazing things. Don’t let your number be an age.
Beautiful!